


The Tale of Muse

by CornetHummy



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Adventure, Body Horror, Gen, Horror, Major Original Character(s), Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-31 22:46:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 42,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CornetHummy/pseuds/CornetHummy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, a star fell from the sky. Perhaps it was a bad omen. A wretched AI becomes something neither human nor robot, a monster longs for her hero, and a computer works miracles in a ruined city.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Tale of the Broken Doll

_Once upon a time, a star fell from the heavens. A maiden found the star and sewed a little doll, placing the star inside to act as a heart. But the star was an ill-fit, for it had no heart at all._

* * *

They were there, the memories, somewhere. A dying battery couldn't have erased them all. This body was not his, he knew that much; the pitiful excuses for hands and legs, the movements, the scale, it was all wrong. He was at least certain he'd been much smaller before, perhaps similar to the little fellow with the yellow eye she kept around, though without the spidery legs.

The first thing he'd heard after the little battery light stopped flashing was her voice, and the first thing he saw was her, peering over him from the ceiling through a single white core-eye with vertical eyelids. A little smiling pink mouth had been painted on the metal rim beneath the eye.

_"It was meant to be, don't you realize? My little blue star, my blue fairy, I was certain you were dead when my little drones brought you here. I was sure of it! You were cracked and broken, like a robin's egg. But I am a merciful mother bird, and so you see I've saved you. No, don't move your legs quite yet! They're not ready. Don't you like how I gave you legs? So sorry about the arms, that body isn't quite intact yet. But don't you think they're better this way? Look how strong they are, look how they shine!" She had spoken with him like he was her favorite toy, and so she'd kept him._

If he tried, he could occasionally recall things he'd said, things said to him, though they lacked any context. The digital part of his mind had at some point auto-recorded his own voice, though why he'd have done that he couldn't recall. They did, however, confirm something he'd suspected. At one point, he had been able to speak.

That was the first thing he'd tried to do when she woke him up, before he'd even tried out the ungainly mess of metal and flesh that was his new body, before he'd tried to sit up and realized he could, in fact, sit up. He wanted to thank her, to protest her childish treatment of him, to ask if she knew who he was or what his name was. He wanted to tell her about the terrifying loneliness of the stars and ask if she knew how he'd gotten up there to begin with, as he was quite certain he wasn't a star himself. He wanted to know what exactly he'd done to throw this awful blanket of guilt and unease over his mind. Was space an exile? A prison? What had he done to liberate himself and bring him back down to Earth?

He wanted to ask her a thousand questions, and instead all that came from his mouth was silent air. For the first time in his short memory he could hear himself breathe, for this body had to breathe, and he couldn't say a thing.

Of course in all of her saccharine kindness, she wouldn't have seen fit to give him a vocalizer. "The vocal chords on this human were too damaged to salvage," she'd purred at him. "Just like the lungs, but you need lungs. Do you really need a voice? It's so much better when it's quiet." He wanted to tell her that he didn't need quiet, he'd had plenty of quiet up there in the stars, but at least there he'd been able to speak to himself and the yellow one had been able to talk about, well, space. He couldn't even recall what he used to talk to himself about, but he could keep himself company if nothing else. The sun and the Earth had been silent enough. He was the last person among anyone who needed silence. At least, he wanted to tell her that, but he couldn't. He liked to think she just assumed he was happy with it, not knowing better.

Sometimes he wondered if she'd silenced the body she'd put him into on purpose. The yellow one wouldn't speak anymore either. Apparently that part of the little guy was too damaged to save, and she, a hypocritical chatterbox in his opinion, was too fond of precious  _silence_  to fix it.

His visual memories were an equally unhelpful mess. He had data, of course, somewhere in there, confirming that the body he was currently in couldn't be entirely human anymore. Humans had thoughts, not data. (Of course, the hands should have tipped him off, to say nothing of the respiratory system.) There were stars, and then flashing lights, and then fire. After that, there was her, a great white light from a blinking lenticular eyelid, hanging metal arms with claws and knives, and the smell of blood. Somehow he could recognize that smell before he realized he had that sense.

When the initial confusion and horror wore off, he was left with stifled boredom. They were underground, he suspected, and she had no real sense of 'day' or 'night.' She hung on a makeshift management rail that guided her from room to room, and when she was doing her work, she didn't want anyone else around. That left him alone in what he'd decided were his sleeping quarters, testing out his legs until he was sure he knew how to walk on them properly, watching the yellow-eyed robot scamper around and peer at things, and stare at the pages of her books long enough to recognize he couldn't read.

What was most frustrating was that even if his life was a blank, he knew he had a great deal to say. Words would come bubbling out anytime he saw something interesting; as he was unable to express them, they'd remain trapped in his mind until he felt crowded and panicked. He had nicknamed the yellow creature Cosmo, faintly aware of having called him something similar once upon a time, but couldn't address him like that; the most he could do was pat the core robot's round head with those awful claw-hands of his. She had given him freedom to roam anywhere else in the place she called home, but one dimly-lit tunnel started to look like another, and he was terrified of never finding his way back. He took pleasure in discovering and naming for himself the objects she collected and hoarded in overcrowded closets, but only once had he ventured into the gallery.

He hated the gallery.

He'd managed to find a rather fascinating object in one of the storage closets, and was entertaining himself trying to figure out what it was and how it would be used. It was bright red, with a trapezoidal body connecting through a spiraling cord to something shaped vaguely like the letter C. It was hard enough to use as a weapon, but not quite practical for it; still, it made a fine back scratcher when the implants in his back started irritating his skin again. Someday when he finally got a voice, he told himself, he'd ask her why he felt the need to give her those things and not speaking abilities. Or skin over his hands, for that matter.

Cosmo perked up as she wheeled herself in through the management rail, sideways eyelid blinking as her white pupil dilated. "Good morning, little ones!" Her digitized voice was milky-sweet and sticky, with an accent he couldn't quite place, and her body hung like a great metal centipede. "Well, it's not exactly morning. 3 AM to be precise, but it hardly matters here. Be glad you're not outside at this hour, though. You wouldn't like it." One of the patchwork wheeled automatons she kept around wheeled in a tray of hot barley cereal, canned fruit, a glass of water with something powdery already mixed in, and pills. There were always so many pills. "Don't skip the medication this time, either, little nameless one. If you get too sick, you'll risk infecting my patients and I'll have to be rid of you."

Somehow, he suspected 'being rid of him' would not mean he'd be set free upon the world, but he hated the pills. They tasted awful in ways preserved peaches and cherries couldn't disguise. The body had somehow known how to eat, and apparently still needed to do so, as much as the whole process disgusted him. He suspected actual humans got used to it after a while.

"Now, then." She crossed her two forward legs beneath her optic in an imitation of a listening pose. "Do you remember anything? A name yet?"

_Of course not. I don't remember a bloody thing except space, and more space, and then NOT being in space and spending the next however long it's been in your smelly little hotbox. Not to say I'm going to complain, I appreciate the hospitality and the repairs that apparently required you to put me in this thing for reasons you refuse to explain, but if I did have any suggestions, might I ask you ventilate the place a little bit better? It still smells like blood, pretty sure it's coming from that ghastly gallery of yours. Oh, and could you give me a BLOODY DAMN VOICE? Or implant some kind of chip so I could at least read and write so as to better file a complaint? Or something? Because no, I don't remember anything, and it wouldn't matter if I had a name because I can't introduce myself with it, and there's no one here to talk to but you and Cosmo anyway._

Unable to say any of the words that kept building up like carbonation in a bottle, he just shook his head.

"Don't look so sad. Who needs memories? Are you sure you want them?" The eye swiveled clockwise in a sympathetic gesture. "It's dangerous, knowing who you are and what your nature is. It's limiting, knowing your role in life, what it is you were made to do. Many would envy you, who has no purpose and can give one to himself. Or I can give one to you, if you're so desperate. Are you?"

A purpose. A purpose would be nice, wouldn't it? It would give him a goal, something to do and achieve and be proud of. He was quite certain he could do whatever she wanted him to do. Moreover, it would be something to DO, something beyond wandering and exploring and shuddering in the corner when the confusion made him feel as if he would drown.

"I have patients and clients who don't like working with my cute little service droids. It's nothing personal against them, but some folks find it unnerving." She rolled her eye. "You are perhaps more human, at least, if you want to act as a go-between. I could use a courier and a public face for my business." She herself couldn't go much past the upper tunnels, as the management rail only went so far. "It means you get to go upstairs sometimes, to the city."

He blinked, anticipating stirring in his guts. He knew there was a city outside, and people; he heard them come and go when she performed her surgeries, even if he never saw them. There was a sense he should hide when others were around, a root sense of guilt unconnected to any memories. To wander off against her orders seemed like a suicide run. But if he was there on her behalf, surely he'd be safer.

She waved one of her little claw-arms in a gesture of vagueness. "I won't lie to you, dear nameless, the city isn't safe. One might not even call it a 'city' anymore, merely the skeleton of what used to be one, the ruins scabbed over with makeshift settlements for those who prefer not to live underground. Ours is the heart of a labyrinth. Oh, but such a marvelous prison it is! So many stories I hear from my clients. I envy them, in a way, and I envy you. If I could see it myself…" As her voice trailed off, he thought perhaps he saw longing in her swiveling eye, before one of the insect-leg-hands brushed it off. "Oh, but then I couldn't do my work, could I? One can indulge in art, or contribute to it; I choose the latter. You'll help me, won't you?"

He looked down at what remained of the mushy cereal, having finished choking down the mess of medications. A great deal of it felt right, wheels which had been spinning uselessly in his head clicking into place. Yes, this is what he did, wasn't it? He did what he was told. He filled a role and listened to a boss. Something about 'moving up in the company' surfaced, but he dismissed it as nonsense; there was no company, after all. But if he could visit the city sometimes, perhaps he could grow in her favor. Perhaps she'd see fit to give him the parts he wanted, graft on latex skin in at least an echo of humanity. Better to be all human or all whatever he was before than to linger halfway. In fact, maybe someone up there could teach him how to read, and he could work on his own, and wouldn't need her anymore. Someday, anyway.

The little wriggling part in the back of his mind hesitated, warning him that he'd made mistakes before, that his own confidence was not to be trusted, and she was to be trusted even less. It reminded him of the screams he sometimes heard during surgeries, and the more frightened ones that came after. It warned of the times the patients laughed, and how the pleasure they expressed over the work she did wasn't quite right. The little wormy thoughts like that had never quite left since he'd seen the gallery.

"I'll give you a name," she promised.

He slapped a hand on the tray hard enough to spill fruit gunk onto the floor, nodding vigorously. It was the strongest way he could think to say 'yes.'

Her eyelids flared out in pleasure. "Ah! I knew it, I knew I could count on you. You've always been so clever, so resourceful and useful. I would kiss you if I could." Her centipede hands fluttered around her. "But you don't want to go out now, not at night. Never leave the compound at night. Not unless I instruct you to do so. Someone will come and snatch you away from me, and then I would have to build another of you, and how often do stars fall from the sky?"

He'd grown used to her occasionally slipping into nonsense metaphor. Surely a name was a first start. A name would lead to a self, and perhaps from there, he could get himself a voice. At least he could remember the sound of his own voice. He'd spent hours replaying voice clips without context, some too damaged and distorted to understand, others jumpy and clipped. He used to speak so well, so frequently. And it meant he had someone to talk to, once upon a time. Most of them were pleasant, too; there was one angry-sounding one he could access, but it was too distorted to make out.

"Cero." Her voice broke him out of his own thoughts, and he looked back up at her. "We'll name you Cero. It sounds like zero, after all, but more elegant."

_Zero? You're going to name me bloody 'Zero?' A name that means nothing? Maybe it makes sense to your artsy-fartsy babble, but I'd like a real name, if you would! Do you have any idea what it's like to feel like nothing? Because I've spent the past don't-even-know-no-internal-clock like this and it's getting very, very old. You couldn't have given me a decent name like Isaac? Can't even have a real name like Miles, or William, or Ibrahim, or Jacques, or Miguel, or Stephen or anything?_

"Don't glare at me like that," she said, "and don't tear at your shirt so. I don't have many of those, I told you. As I said before, it's a blessing being a zero. The time will come when you will find you know exactly who you are, and you'll long for the innocence and freedom of being nobody at all. I guarantee it." She paused. "Oh, and just now when I said I don't have many shirts? I lied. Some clients leave clothes behind. There's an entire closet full of them, try on whatever suits you. Don't worry about looking professional, it hardly matters here. It hardly matters anywhere."

He looked down at himself. The pants he'd been wearing were worn and patchy, and the shirt was little better, though it was superior to going without and having to look at the exposed systems in his chest. Seeing the labyrinth of glass chambers and tubes protruding from the body's flesh when he showered always turned his stomach. Nausea was one of those novel new sensations he didn't care for in the least.

Cero he was, then? Not that it mattered; he didn't know how he'd introduce himself. Maybe she'd give him a name tag for others to read, at least. It felt like a start. As he stood back up, one of the little robots taking the tray back from him, she stopped halfway to the hallway and turned back to look at him.

"Muse, by the way. They don't often speak openly of me out there, but when they do, they call me Muse. Remember that." She blinked horizontally and wheeled away.

* * *

Cero wasn't sure how he'd managed to avoid stumbling into the storage room full of clothing. It smelled musty, and the clothes had been strewn about haphazardly; he wondered why Muse even bothered to collect them, until he recalled his fascination with the red plastic thing earlier. Maybe it was the same for her.

Digging through the piles in the dim light took a bit of time. He needed to find pants that fit, ones that weren't too moth-eaten or obviously stained, and a shirt that didn't irritate his cybernetics further. Wool was right out. It was a blessing for him when he found a pair of gloves to cover the exposed metallic things he had for hands.

What was it she'd said had happened to this body? "Transplant thieves," she'd claimed. It couldn't survive on its own, and to hear her tell it, neither could he; she'd combined them, which seemed to work more to his benefit. The human body was alive, but the human inside was gone; the fact that this technically made him something like a zombie was a fact he filed away in the same locked drawer where he kept his doubts about why the body needed so many repairs and alterations in the first place.

Rarely did he think of who that human might have been. Poor bloke was dead enough.

He noticed light glinting from a wall, only to realize he was looking at a broken, dusty wall mirror. That's what the room didn't have, a mirror. "It encourages vanity," Muse had insisted. "Never spend too much time looking at yourself." Still, he couldn't shake the curiosity. He knew how he looked from a certain perspective, but not the whole thing, so to speak. And half of what Muse said was nonsense, anyway. All that about not needing a name or memories. She would think one wouldn't have to know what one looked like.

The moment he stepped over to see his reflection, he turned away, doubling over and covering his mouth. He recognized that reaction; he'd had it once before, the night he'd taken a wrong turn and entered the gallery. This wasn't quite as grisly, but there was the same sense of wrongness, a patchwork mess of pipes and glass, joints and claws, flesh spotted with deep scars. He knew he had no hair, but he hadn't imagined the scars, or the deep violet bruising ringing the plates and the implanted camera-eyes. Of course, he'd been looking out of a camera when he was in his previous body, it couldn't have been much different in this body. Which meant of course the eyes had been replaced, but it looked wrong, something in his mind was recoiling and trying to push back the food he'd swallowed. He forced it down; he didn't want to have to take more medication.

Instead he grabbed as many articles of clothing as he could, scarves, coats, rags, anything to cover him up as much as he could until he could pretend his body wasn't there anymore.


	2. The Tale of the Last Dragonslayer

_Once upon a time, a hero defeated a fearsome dragon. Twice she cut off its head, and once she broke its heart. When she emerged from its cavern, however, she found herself unable to tell her story to anyone. Over time, as she wandered the peaceful and lonely world, she began to wonder if there had ever been a dragon in the first place._

**_Seven years ago_ **

_One would have thought she would have been used to the inexplicable by now._

_The lights that shot across the night sky like fat tadpoles shone down blue and orange, red and white. They were too big and bright to be meteors, and their rippling patterns suggested heat rising from pavement._

_She should have left as soon as she stepped past the threshold and sensed a familiar metallic taste in her mouth, partnered with a static feeling over her joints. She hadn't felt that in years, and there was a bitter nostalgia to it. She knew that shade of blue, and that scent of ozone. On the outskirts of the ruined city there had been nothing but flat grasslands and stars. On the other side of the strange, shimmering wall surrounding this place, even the sky itself appeared broken._

_This was not Aperture, but it had their stink all over it._

_She should have turned back, but instead she hobbled further into the city of twisted girders and rubble palaces. She took her time, for there was no need to run and waste energy. The years had aggravated the damage done to her knees and ankles by overuse of long fall boots, though a walking stick took the edge off of the pain._

_There were other reasons, too, for an old woman who traveled alone to carry a heavy stick._

_At times, the pains were her only reminder that it had really happened to her, and hadn't been some kind of coma dream. In the past, she'd done whatever she could to dull the memories, pretending she wouldn't immediately know certain voices the moment she saw them and ignoring how the sounds of machinery put her on edge. They left her too prickly to stay in one place, and so she wandered, desperate to leave the memories behind._

_Months had become years, however, and years decades, and now she had to admit, she wasn't sure why she wandered anymore. She could no more leave her memories behind than her own skin, and at times she relished them in a bitter way; they kept the mind sharp, after all. A fear of what was behind her became a desire for what was ahead on the horizon. She was looking for something, or perhaps she was meant to find it before she could rest._

_Rest was increasingly a treasure worth more than gold to her. She looked around and listened carefully for signs of movement before settling down on a concrete block, brushing grey hair from her face and resting booted feet. Whatever she was looking for, she doubted she'd find it in a place like this, a ruin where the night sky itself bore the scars of Aperture's "science."_

_There was no good reason to stay. She doubted the locals wanted anything to do with outsiders. And there was the advice she'd gotten from the last stop, a town five miles out famous for absolutely nothing at all, where the locals averted their gaze and served her politely, and fell quiet at any mention of anomalies._

_"Go there if you want," the pudgy old man at the counter had told her in a hushed tone as he handed her coffee with extra cream. "Woman your age, I wouldn't even suggest going near there, but folks is always curious. Go there if you want, because we can't stop you. But don't stay. Whatever you do, leave before dawn. If you ever want to come back here and rest your feet in a nice motel room in a world that makes sense, don't stay."_

_It was sound advice. Really, she shouldn't have come, but after hearing the rumors, she knew the curiosity would eat her up inside like a parasite if she didn't satisfy it. Besides, she had to know if her guess was true, and if this really was one of their projects. Still, she reminded herself, she had no obligation to it. She'd fought GLaDOS and killed her twice. She'd made it out alive. If anyone had earned the right to wander and live without building up more troubles, it was her._

_She leaned back and stared up at the warping sky. It was beautiful, in an eerie way, and cast colorful tones down on the concrete and glass landscapes. Her sense of self-preservation had worked so hard over the years, perhaps it was fraying and tiring with the rest of her. Maybe it wanted to rest for once, too. At any rate, her knees had made the decision for her; there'd be no five mile trek back to town tonight._

_Perhaps whatever it was she was looking for, she'd find it here. Maybe there was one last Aperture experiment she could disrupt, for old time's sake. Perhaps it was time for one more new disaster._

_She sat up, and waited without sleep with her staff across her lap and a knife in her hand, in case there was someone who would attack an old woman at night._

* * *

P-body loved Atlas, and Atlas loved P-body, and they both loved God.

There were times when P-body did not particularly like Testing, but she felt irrational thinking so. Everything was a Test. If she were to find herself resenting Tests, she'd have nothing to look forward to in life. It was easier to embrace the simple joy of leaping across endless pits than to acknowledge the pain and difficulties in being rebuilt when she didn't make a jump.

She and Atlas had grown concerned as of late, however, with God. God wasn't as happy with the Tests, even if they did well. God was all too willing to detonate one or the other out of irritation, and while P-body had stored backup data on God's server that let her retain the memories of all the other P-bodies, it still hurt to explode.

It broke her heart. They only wanted to make God happy.

_"Do you think She'd prefer if we failed the Tests, maybe?"_ P-body chattered with Atlas over the subject while they tried to figure out how to use the Dual Portal Devices to get them across an electrified floor.  _"As in, maybe this is all a Test about Testing, a Meta-Test, and she wants to Test our willingness to fail to make her happy."_

_"Seems a bit too complicated. She really dislikes failure, so I doubt She's changed her mind."_ Atlas waved a dismissive hand at his partner.  _"We can ask Her what would make Her happy, maybe. When she's happy…"_

An elevator door opened up to a new, labyrinth test chamber, and all thoughts of speaking to God directly evaporated as P-body concentrated on the test. She shot a portal at a distant panel and used it to propel herself forward as Atlas followed suit. God would be angry if they addressed Her.

The ultimate heartbreak came when Atlas and P-body completed the test in one go, without a single mistake, landing on the same platform and clapping in delight. So sure were they that this would please God, they both waited with baited nonexistent breath for the passive-aggressive, venomous approval of their beloved GLaDOS.

"That's good, I guess. We can use that. Proceed." The voice of God hung listless in the air, indifferent and tired. GLaDOS, immortal and dedicated, did not tire. That was for humans.

P-body's hands trembled, and she turned her optic to Atlas, who was covering his face and looking away in shame. She didn't have to communicate with him to know he was thinking the same thing. God was not angry. God did not care enough to be angry.

God no longer cared about them.

_"What could be wrong? Why is She acting like this?"_ P-body hovered over Atlas as they descended in the elevator, the wonders of Aperture passing them by in a glass tube. The hum of machinery hung around them, punctuating the uncomfortable silence.

The laboratory had been cleaned and restored to its former glory ever since First God had been, in the words of GLaDOS, 'banished to the moon where no one will ever have to listen to him natter on ever again, and where he will never return from if he has any sense of self-preservation forever, and where he will hopefully freeze and die.' The work had taken Her weeks. Over the years, She had made adjustments here and there as even She reached the limits of Aperture's walls, and her testing had taken Atlas and P-body to almost every corner of the massive complex. Almost. There were floors they were forbidden to visit for some reason.

Was it possible God Herself had reached her own limits? Was she bored with her creations and her Heaven? Was that why one of the recent testing chambers had colored, flashing lights for no apparent reason? Could that explain the electrified floor being moved to a wall in one case?

Atlas set a comforting hand on P-body's chassis and shook his optic back and forth.  _"It's not our place to know. Hopefully it's just a phase. Soon she'll be just as irritated with us as before, and everything will make sense."_

The elevator descended much further than usual, passing floor after floor before finally opening up on a nondescript chamber with a typical Aperture iris-eye door. The door, however, didn't open when the two robots approached it, not even when P-body politely knocked and Atlas just as politely slammed his body against it.

The voice of God filled the room.

"So I hate to disappoint you, but there's no test chamber up ahead." Her voice still sounded tired and detached, but there was a hint of something now, the faint spark of life returning. Whatever was ahead must have been dreadful. Had P-Body doubted God for nothing? "The truth is, I think I have a better use for you. For my sake. You might have noticed a slight drop-off in my attention span lately. You might think I'm slacking off. Don't. I've just been very, very busy, with an experiment that is long in the making."

A panel opened in the wall and a clawed arm reached out, grabbing Atlas's optic by the sides and pulling. The round robot flailed in pained protest, and when P-body ran to try to pull him away, something closed around her midsection before she could get any closer.

"Oh, it's going to hurt. Sorry about that. Except not really, because you always knew it was your fate to suffer for Science."

And it did, but even as every simulated, carefully programmed pain impulse in P-body's consciousness flared up at once, some part of her still rejoiced. God did care. She had a use for them after all.

* * *

Mari woke up at dawn. She always did, unless she was sick. Grandmother had taught her how to do it, and when to take cat naps, and when to merely pretend to sleep. The daylight was precious, and neither of them wanted to waste any of it with closed eyes.

She shifted on the old mattress, following her usual ritual. She picked up a stick waiting by the bed and looked around the rotting hotel room, in case anyone else had decided to set up camp. She scanned the usual hiding spots in case they'd been disrupted. Only then did she rise to wash herself in the supply of safe water and hide her hair under her baseball cap.

Michelle was still sleeping.

"Grandma?" This wasn't the first time Michelle had slept in, but it was becoming alarmingly frequent. Mari didn't want to admit she knew why. She knelt down next to the woman with bone-white hair and sun-wrinkled skin, tapping the side of the mattress. Mari knew better than to startle Michelle even when she wasn't feeling well.

The head turned, and a pair of grey eyes blinked up at her. "Oh, you are awake, right?" Mari was answered with a little nod. "Good, okay, just checking…just checking. Grandma, listen, you just stay in again today, alright? It's okay, I know there's good days and bad days."

Michelle's expression hardened, and she struggled to sit up, shaking her head.

"No, no! It's fine! Really. Come on, I'll be fine. I'm a big girl. I've seen you fight, I know how to do it…" Mari knew she was begging and hated herself for it, but whatever look was in her eyes must have worked, as Michelle finally relented and returned to the mattress. "You're going to be fine here, right? I'll leave your knife by the bed, just in case. You just need a-a few more hours of sleep, right?"

Michelle's eyes looked off into the distance right through Mari for a moment, but then she smiled and set a wrinkled hand on Mari's shoulder. "I'll be fine. Come back before dark."

"Okay. I'm going to the marketplace, okay? It's open today. I'm gonna get us something nice." Mari realized too late her voice had cracked for a moment, a good sign that she was hiding something, and Michelle picked up on it, squeezing her shoulder. "No, it'll be fine! It'll be great, okay? Gonna get us a cake. I bet someone's selling flour and sugar and I can steal bird eggs…"

Michelle had to know it. It was impossible to hide anything from her. Mari was going to look for a doctor.

* * *

Technically it wasn't a "real"city anymore. The central government had collapsed in the wake of the Combine and the war, and most of the survivors had fled. The city was still there, though, or at least its skeleton was. Buildings leaned and rotted, winked with broken windows and grumbled through barricaded doors. What might have once been a glittering financial district sat clogged in overgrowth as nature tried to reclaim the land. Some who were old enough said the city used to be beautiful before the wars and the troubles, back when people could come and go as they pleased. Others said, good riddance to it all.

That was the official story. It didn't explain everything, and even Mari knew there had to be more to it. But she'd been born in the city, and its current state was all she'd known of it. There was no time to guess about the past.

There were, however, advantages to living in a labyrinth of bent girders and rubble. While those out in the countryside had to grow their own food and wait until the right day to sell it, the city had steel and stone, with whatever else had been salvaged to sell. A scrapper could make a good living digging through ruins to find treasures, and trading them at the makeshift marketplace for food and clothing. Mari's height and short hair gave her an advantage over some of the other scavenger children, and she knew it. It was easy to mistake her for a boy several years older than she was, and a thief who might have tried to steal from a 12 year old girl would have been more reluctant with a teenage boy.

Still, she wasn't stupid. She only carried a few items at a time in a satchel over her shoulder; if anyone stole it or tried to fight her for it, she wouldn't lose everything. She had her hiding places just as everyone else did. She and her grandmother rarely stayed in one place for too long, but there were always little nooks with food stored here or clothing there, just in case.

The problem with the marketplace was that it was all based on barter. Nobody could quite agree on the value of one particular thing, and it was simply easier to haggle and trade. Glass and ceramics could be made into weapons. Wood burned. Paper, well, everyone needed paper for one reason or another, though books were especially valuable. Sometimes a few brave souls would arrive from the countryside to sell their crops, and Mari would look on with envy at the sight of fresh tomatoes. They only came once a month, of course, and never stayed.

There was only one day a month when anyone could enter or leave the city. Of course, no one who had settled there ever left.

Food, medicine, clothing, these were more valuable because everyone needed them. Medicine was the worst, and Mari knew it. It's why she'd spent all day yesterday digging through piles of rubble, braving empty subway tunnels, and risking her own infection searching through an abandoned clinic in an attempt to find something, anything worth trading for her grandmother's life.

Grandma Michelle had always seemed so strong to Mari, tougher than an old woman ought to be, able to stare down street gangs who dared threaten the tiny wayward family. Even the Puppets didn't scare Michelle. But as Mari had grown taller, Michelle seemed to slow down, her coughing fits far more frequent. Grandma needed to sleep more often than not, and it wasn't just the ravages of age. She was sick, far sicker than she wanted to admit to her granddaughter. Her skin had taken on a yellowish tone.

Guilt festered in Mari's stomach, reminding her of how Michelle would never approve of her going out to find a doctor by herself. Some of the physicians who still lived in the city were kind enough to offer their services for a pittance, but as a result, they were always desperately busy and hard to find. Some of the others knew how valuable they were, and charged accordingly.

She'd gathered as much as she thought it was safe to carry. It might have been wiser to hold onto the fruit and vegetable cans, at least some of them still usable as far as she could tell. The pineapple can was her true treasure; she wanted to eat it with Grandma on the day Michelle had decided would be Mari's birthday. It was fine. It was worth it.

She waited in line in the sticky heat for an hour while one of the physicians in a booth stacked with hoarded medicines handed out what the sick could afford. Ahead of her, a heavily pregnant woman shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and a man in his twenties with a scarf over his mouth looked back and forth self-consciously. Mari looked healthier and stronger than some young people in the marketplace, if a little on the thin side, and knew she was getting glares from those who thought a healthy child would monopolize the doctor's time. The smells of sweat and chemicals mixed with the scent of earth coming from a farmer's booth, turning her stomach.

The farmer was selling tomatoes and onions. Her feet were already sore from the hunting she'd done, and it was tempting to leave the line and trade the cans for fresh tomatoes. Maybe Grandma just needed something nutritious, the tempting thought whispered. She shut it away and held her resolve until she reached the front of the line.

"I'm…I'm here about my grandma."

She explained the symptoms to the doctor, a broad-shouldered man who listened to it all silently, nodding. She described the shortness of breath, how thin and frail Michelle looked, how much time she had to spend sleeping. Surely a doctor could fix heart trouble. Doctors could fix everything. When she'd finished, the long pause before he answered her already told her the dreadful answer.

"I'm sorry," the man with a scarf over one eye said as he shook his head, looking down at the cans she'd brought in her satchel. "I can't waste medicine on an old woman, not if that's all you have." He had the good graces to sound compassionate and guilty, and somehow that just made Mari angrier.

"It's not a waste! She needs help, dammit! She's helped me, and I can pay you, I can work for you if you want, please…" Mari stood tall, fists clenched, refusing to cry. She wouldn't be a charity case, and she wouldn't make herself look weak in the teeming, crowded marketplace of tents and makeshift booths filling what might have once been a public park. The trampling of feet had prevented the grass from growing back properly, and the lack of rain all summer had left the ground cracked and dry beneath Mari's black-booted feet.

The man with the patched eye lowered his voice. "I'm sorry, again, but it may be best just to let her move on. She'll be in pain. The symptoms you described suggest she's slowing down, and it's natural. We need to use what we have to keep the young healthy and prevent disease outbreaks so the city can rebuild. But…"

He gestured Mari closer, ignoring her razor-sharp glare. "I can tell you're not going to be swayed, are you? No, you want to save one person, damn the rest. Fine, then. I kind of understand, at least." He pointed a gloved finger at a corner of the marketplace where Mari spotted a colorful figure sitting by himself, holding documents.

"…The ragman?" Mari didn't know his name, and neither did anyone else. He'd only shown up a week ago, but rumors traveled fast. The ragman didn't speak, though he'd gesture frantically towards anyone who passed by as if he had something desperate to say. He wore layers of clothing that hid most of his tall form, a jacket over a shirt, a scarf and dark glasses over his face, another tied around his head, and rags tied here and there in haphazard patterns. Mari had assumed he was selling clothing and just wore his wares, but he protested when she tried to trade him for his jacket, so she came to the conclusion that he was one of those vagrants who simply wore everything he owned. "What the hell do I want to approach him for?"

He unnerved her, with his frantic, frightened hand-gestures, the way he reacted angrily whenever someone mistook him for a beggar and offered him anything. He always gave the impression of being trapped somewhere else.

"It's not him, it's who he works for. Go up to him, and say you want to commission a piece of art. That's it. Don't give your name or make any offers or anything until you see his boss. They say she's a bit frightening and weird herself, and she sure don't work for canned food, but if you're really so desperate to save your grandmother from the inevitability of time, she's your surgeon. She makes miracles happen." The doctor scowled and spit on the dirt floor. "That's what they call 'em, anyway."

Mari half suspected the market doctor was making a fool of her in return for offending him with her pleas and anger. The ragman was a strange homeless man, that was all, someone apparently too proud to sell his clothing to someone who needed them more than he did. Still, she found herself dodging carts and merchants shouting at one another over the value of dandelions for salad and unhealthy-looking fish before she stood there in front of the man, trying to remember what it was she was supposed to say.

But she'd heard rumors, just like everyone else. The Puppets came from somewhere, after all. Someone knew how to replace fingers with blades and offer eyes that could see in the dark, lined with ugly bruises and scars. Someone was responsible for the figures who came out at night, the reasons why the city itself shut down as the sun went down and became something else entirely. There were reasons why Michelle never allowed Mari to wander around at night without a knife and a torch, and then only if absolutely necessary, and those clicking, clacking, laughing reasons had to have a source. Someone who could replace a skeleton with steel could cure an old woman.

Or someone like that could make Mari strong enough to survive even if she couldn't save Michelle. Alternately, someone like that would kill her instantly. She couldn't turn back now, though, for the ragman had seen her.

As he always did whenever someone acknowledged him, the ragman stood up and tried to communicate with wild hand gestures between the two of them. His gloved hands were a bit disproportionately large compared to his body, his legs just slightly unwieldy, and as he flailed she caught a rare glimpse of exposed pale, freckled skin near his cheek where the scarf didn't quite reach. Well, she reflected, there was a white man underneath there somewhere. There was metal, too, at the neck, which was the other part partially exposed, with vents on each side. If he was a Puppet, he was a tame one, and they never came out in the daylight anyway. She wondered how he felt covered in all those layers at the peak of a dry summer.

"I want to c-commission a piece of art." Mari spat out the words all at once, and they felt foreign in her mouth. Maybe this surgeon worked for a few select clients and demanded passwords, like some of the gangs lurking in the bad corners of the city. Following the doctor's instructions, she didn't say anything else, and expected the ragman to keep on pantomiming to her.

Instead he froze where he stood, in an awkward half-gesturing position, lowering his leg and then arm. She couldn't see his face, but somehow got the impression he was smiling as he took her hand and shook it forcefully with more strength than he appeared to have. Something about the hands felt off, like they were leather over bone.

He reached into the bag he always carried, slipping her a printed document. Whoever he worked for had enough electricity to spare running a very old printer, which she hoped was a good sign. She unfolded the document and read it silently.

_Hello, my dear prospective client! Since you have found my lovely assistant here, it proves you are someone who appreciates true art and seeks miracles beyond those nature can offer. The individual in front of you is Cero, and he can neither speak nor read, but he will take you where you need to go. Follow him and don't look back, and he will lead you to wonders._

* * *

Mari wasn't the first client, of course, but she (or was it a he?) was the first one who didn't frighten Cero in some way or another. He wasn't easily frightened, of course, having been brave enough to sit in that hot, crowded marketplace all by himself day after day until someone was strange or desperate enough to ask for Muse's services. Apparently before he'd been given the job, she'd had her little drones do that job for her. A return client had told him about it, flexing a steel hand lined with spines.

The return clients only approached him at sundown.

He always found himself wanting to talk to the clients, even the odd or upsetting ones, but Mari in particular seemed to invite discussion. She was entirely too young to be spending time with someone like Muse, or Cero for that matter, and he wanted to turn her around and tell her to go find her parents and be sure to wash behind her ears. Respectable people didn't come down here, he wanted to tell her, and lest of all children, who are the future and therefore really shouldn't be rewriting their futures to involve strange and probably illegal medical procedures. Besides, he would have added, she was still growing, and the sort of medications people like him had to take would no doubt stunt her growth. Perhaps to make a point he would have taken off his cloaks to show her what he looked like.

Ah, no, he added mentally, he would never have done that. He'd never do it for anyone. He probably wouldn't warn her away, either, because here he was leading her right to his boss, desperate to be of some use or importance to someone. It was only until he could afford a voice, really, and some upgrades to look more human. Everyone had to make compromises sometimes.

Mari kept looking over her shoulder as they descended down the stairs and walkway towards what was apparently once a subway tunnel. She scratched at marks and scars on her skin and kept looking over at Cero, only to turn away quickly the moment he noticed. Cero pulled his coat around tighter, even though it just made the uncomfortable heat even worse. Of course she would stare. He would stare at himself, too, even covered up. He'd quickly realized that there was a rhyme and a reason to human clothing, a certain methodology he still hadn't quite figured out. Unfortunately, summer clothing usually involved exposing flesh, and if Cero didn't want to look at himself, there was no way anyone else would stand it.

Rats squeaked and scurried away as he led Mari down the dimly lit tunnels towards the system of concrete rooms. He could always find the path back even without one of the escort drones, or at least had learned after the fourth trip down. Most of the underground area was dusty and disheveled, smelling of moss and mold, but Muse kept her laboratory neat, clean, and free of graffiti, old blood stains notwithstanding.

"So how long have you worked for her?"

As if reacting to a reflex he didn't have, Cero opened his mouth to answer and empty air came out. He pointed at his throat as an irritated reminder, and then held up seven fingers.

"Seven…years?" He shook his head vigorously. "Months?" Another head shake. "Days? Seven days?" That earned a nod and a smile, though Cero realized after the fact she wouldn't see his facial expression anyway.

"Oh, so, you're new…that's what I figured. It's not really so scary in the city. I mean, as long as you have someone with you, and it looks like you have powerful friends." Mari insisted on staying right behind Cero, refusing to go ahead of him even if she didn't want to look at him directly. "You look like a Puppet, but I mean…Puppets don't flinch at rats. And they don't hide their alterations."

There was that 'Puppet' word again. One client had been murmuring the word when Cero brought him in, bleeding from the mouth and barely conscious. Another had sneered about them over the course of a long rant about the many enemies she'd lay low with her upgrades, metal hoops clinging around her wrists.

At least Mari seemed content to ask him questions. Some clients acted like he was just another faceless drone. "The card said your name was Cero, right? Do you live down here?" When he nodded, she continued. "You're so lucky. It's nice and cool down here in the subway tunnels, though probably not very safe if you aren't…I mean, if you're not properly armed. My grandmother said there used to be trains running in here. I bet if you go far enough in, you can find a train car…would make a good shelter for a while…"

Where was the expression of pity he was hoping for? How could she be jealous of him, living in the darkness most of the time like some kind of frightened nocturnal animal? What a heartless little girl.

"Your eyes."

He stopped walking for a moment and turned to stare at her.

"…I was right. They keep flickering blue. You've got implants." Cero braced himself for disgust, but Mari's tone just suggested curiosity. "Are they for night vision, since you live down here?"

Cero immediately nodded even if it was a total lie, only then realizing he probably did have some kind of night vision and ought to explore that when he wasn't busy trying to figure out everything else about his life.

"That color blue…it looks kind of like-hey, is this it?"

They'd stopped in front of a nondescript iron door, and Cero surreptitiously glanced at the inside of a scarf before inputting the lock combination. It was an old-fashioned lock that had to be turned in just the right direction, and he hoped Mari didn't notice how many tries it took him before the door opened.

The waiting room, as it were, was stark and painted white, deceptively bright and clean. Cosmo was waiting for Cero as he usually did, and skittered right over, earning a little gasp of shock from Mari. The yellow-eyed robot climbed Cero's legs with his spidery appendages and the man laughed silently, picking up Cosmo and giving the little fellow a perch on his shoulders. It hurt a bit, but it seemed to make Cosmo happy. Cosmo liked high places, for some reason.

The moment he entered, Muse's voice filled the room through a wall-mounted speaker. "Cero, dear doll, did you bring a new patient...Wait, that's a child. You know I don't work on children. The bones aren't fully formed yet. Go away, little girl, I can't give you wings or a dragon tail or whatever it is human children want nowadays. You're all practically beasts at that age anyway, no offense."

Cero winced in embarrassment and even gave Mari a sympathetic shrug, even though she'd denied him the sympathy he deserved just moments earlier. He'd forgotten that rule, that immature humans were to be turned away.

Mari, however, stood where she was on the concrete floor, digging her fingers into her palms. "It's not for me. I've been refused by the doctors up above, and one of them told me you can make miracles happen. I know someone who needs a miracle and I want to commission a piece of art."

There was silence on the other end of the radio, and the double doors on the other end of the waiting room opened. "…Alright." Muse's tone had changed, cautious but curious. "Come on in, little one, and tell me why you came to a fairyland like this. No, Cero, you stay here. Keep watch over dear Cosmo and take off those ridiculous layers. I keep warning you of what will happen if you overheat, self-conscious little thing. I want to speak with our new guest alone."

Muse's vertical white eye peered out from the doorway, blinking slowly, like a cat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying so far. Sorry for the italics abuse!


	3. The Tale of the Witch and the Maiden

_Once upon a time, a maiden traveled to find a witch in order to save a wounded hero. The witch demanded the maiden's pure heart as payment to save the hero's life, and as the maiden traded her heart away, she wondered what the hero would think of her after that._

* * *

Her body had betrayed her. Why not? She should be used to betrayal by now.

The sun was streaming higher through the lone window by the time she'd forced herself to sit up. Her insides felt like they were on fire, and her appetite had yet to return. Through sheer discipline she managed to eat half of one of those wrapped spongy cakes Mari had found, trying not to think about why it still tasted relatively "fresh." She knew she needed something in her system, even if the system in question disagreed.

Of course Mari had gone off on her own. Of course she hadn't gone to the marketplace. Michelle knew the girl well enough to spot the subtle tell of lies. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that Mari was a strong girl for her age. Mari wouldn't forget how to fight if she did run into any trouble. She wouldn't be so foolish as to stay out past nightfall. It was difficult not to see her as the tiny child cowering in the wreckage of a store front, crying for parents who never came, but that was a parental illusion.

Yes, Michelle was certain, she'd fully poisoned Mari with every survival trick she'd had to learn herself. Take cat naps. Don't eat too much in one meal. This is how you tell if food is safe to eat. Here's how you identify a live wire. These are exercises to keep your legs strong. This is how you fall so you won't break any bones. Here's a look to give someone when you want them to go away. All of them perfect gifts to pass on from the adult who could never function in a safe place to the child who might not ever find one.

And yet, what was it she was doing herself? Sitting still in one spot, elbows on her bony knees, because her legs just wouldn't make the basic effort to walk today. If she thought back long enough she could probably pinpoint just what was doing it. Long-term damage from overuse of the long fall boots were catching up with her legs. The strange force fields between test chambers always did leave her mouth tasting faintly of blood; maybe they'd done something to one of her organs that she couldn't ignore anymore. That said, everything had been more or less under control until she'd decided it was a good idea to visit the city's threshold on the wrong day. What prompted that? Curiosity.  _Science._

"One more month," she told herself, speaking aloud to make sure she could still use her voice. It was rusty and hoarse from coughing more than age, but there it was. "Give myself one more month so I don't die on the road, and we're getting out of here." She knew she should have taken Mari when she'd had the chance. One of those days when the barrier was down they'd run, keep walking until they reached the nearest town and forget this damned city ever existed. She'd been able to do it with Aperture, hadn't she? It wasn't her problem anymore. Well, save for the fact that what outsiders called the Phantom City and what locals just called "here" was full of people, and Aperture just had Her.

But she wouldn't stay anywhere, would she? She, Chell, Michelle, whatever it was proper for a woman her age to go by these days, she'd keep wandering again because she'd just have more questions keeping her up at night. She'd wander until she died and Mari deserved better than that.

One more month. Chell gave herself one more month to find out what was wrong with this city after all this time. One more month to figure out the connections between the barrier, the Puppets, and just what it was they were so eager to protect. If Michelle survived that month and wasn't any closer to finding the truth at that point, she promised herself, she'd take Mari to a town that made sense and hope for the best.

* * *

"So, you came all the way down here to find me? You followed my lovely doll's directions. That's to be commended. Do you like him? I made him myself, mostly. Well, a chef can still say she made the dinner herself even if she didn't raise the chicken from an egg, can't she?"

Mari breathed through her nose to keep from gagging on an antiseptic chemical smell. The room where Muse hung from the ceiling was cluttered and chaotic, with painted red swirls on the stone walls and little humanoid figures built of metal and wire posing in the corners. The floor was cold enough for her to feel it through her sneakers. There was a jagged, rusty rail running through the room on the ceiling; Muse hung from there, blinking with her white, sideways eye.

Muse herself was a robot, obviously. Somehow Mari had expected a Puppet, a surgeon enhanced with a steel hand and blade-fingers or the same glowing implant eyes Cero wore. Instead Muse looked down at Mari with a spherical metal eye the size of a basketball with a crudely-painted smile on the rim, a few cracks visible on the lens. The ball-eye was mounted to a segmented body slightly longer than Mari's own height, each segment bearing a pair of metal extension legs. Some of the legs held blades, and others had lenses. Muse, whatever she was, made Mari think of a caterpillar with an open mouth.

"Well?" Muse arched her long body, moving in closer to Mari until the girl could feel the heat from the machine. "Either speak up or run away screaming. You don't come down here just to say nothing. Don't tell me you just want to admire my art? Nobody ever wants that. You can't fool me. Everyone wants something, so what do you want?"

Mari's neck itched. She crossed her arms in front of her chest in a weak display of false confidence. "You can fix sick people, right?"

"Sick people? Is it just sickness? Oh, little hawk. Of course I can fix sickness! Unless you want to be sick, of course. You could argue there's something a little poetic about illness, couldn't you? All the weakness and vulnerability. There's the romantic image of the poet, wasting away…" Muse drifted off, perhaps catching Mari's glare in her camera. "Yes. I can cure it. But you look well! And even if you're sick, those humans aren't so heartless that they would let you die before you reach adulthood, would they? You have all that growing to do…" Her tone suggested unease and disgust as she spoke the last bit, and the eye swiveled in a shudder.

"I told you, it's not for me." Mari tried to remind herself that if Muse wanted to kill her she would have done so already. She could have had Cero do it even, if the man was indeed a Puppet. Muse wanted something from her. Was that what Grandmother had said? If you have something someone wants from you and they can't kill or hurt you to get it, they'll keep you alive no matter how much they hate you. Muse didn't seem to hate Mari at all.

"Grandmother," she added. "It's for my grandmother. She's really sick. They told me you could help her, because they won't…"

"Oh! Oh, I see. Because she's old, right? Something like that, I bet. Yes, I saw your hands clench there. No, I won't turn away the elderly. I could help her live forever! You know, if she wanted it. As it is, I'm sure if I replace this and fix up that…"

"…So like a Puppet. You'd turn her into a Puppet?"

Muse laughed, which seemed to involve a sugary trill from her faintly French-accented voice and clicks and clacks from her arms. "Is that what they're calling themselves now? Oh, I'll figure out the treatment when I fully know the problem. Better to be a Puppet than dead, right? What, does she dislike alterations? Well, she'd take it over being dead, I'm sure. But…" The voice deepened slightly, and the sideways eye narrowed. "I'm sorry, I just cannot work for free. That's what a commission means, after all. You want something from me. So I want something from you. That's fair, isn't it?"

Mari immediately went for her bag. "I have canned-"

An angular metal insect-arm touched her shoulder, and Mari tried not to flinch both at the unexpected touch and the feel of cold metal. It felt more like a pat than a threat though, and Muse was even polite enough to dim the glow of her eye as she stared right into Mari's face.

"Oh, little hawk, it's more than that. More than that! I understand what you are now. A heroine! You're a heroine, a journeyman-well, journeywoman in your case, so of course you have to go on a quest. Of course."

Mari stared. The robot was mad, if it was possible for machines to be mad. Perhaps she was hooked up to a patchy part of the power grid and it had fried her machine-brains. Mari understood very little about the workings of robots and drones; Grandmother had a distaste for them, for reasons unknown.

The stare didn't deter Muse, who was tapping her "mouth" with one of her arms. "You know, I might send you somewhere very dangerous."

"It's fine. The city's dangerous. Everywhere outside of your room is dangerous."

"True, true, but some parts of the city are stranger than others. Now what use can I make of my brave heroine? What delightful story can I spin from your adventures? I could send you to cross a checkerboard and become a queen."

Heat reached Mari's cheeks. Was Muse making fun of her? "It's not a story. I'm serious. Please listen to me!"

Muse just swayed back and forth. "I could, perhaps, send you to slay a witch and bring back her broom. Oh, and I know JUST the witch, just the one! But alas, you wouldn't stand a chance against Her, no, not Her. She'd kill you and I'd never get to know how your adventures went. Well, next time, next time. If only you were a full grown bird…"

Again the childish comparisons. Mari snorted and narrowed her eyes. "I can handle a...'witch.' Is she competition or something? It's not the first time I've killed someone." That was a lie. Mari had seen Michelle kill someone in self-defense, only once. Michelle had covered her eyes afterwards and held Mari to her chest until the girl stopped crying and they never spoke of it again.

Still, wasn't seeing death the same as dealing it? She could kill someone to save Grandma. Certainly she could kill a bad person to save a good one.

"No, no." Muse's eye swiveled as if she were shaking her head. "No, wait, I know exactly it! There's something that was taken from me some time ago. I forgot about it, because it wasn't terribly important to me, but it seems like it'd be more fun to have it around. You know how you can lose something and not care, and then weeks later look for it only to remember it's gone? It's like that. I mean, you might die doing this, too. But at least She won't have the satisfaction of killing someone else."

Mari bit her lip to prevent an outburst. She wanted to shout at how Grandma needed help now, not after she went on some quest for a half-mad robot to find something that probably didn't even exist. She didn't even have proof that Muse could fix Grandma, or even that she made Puppets. Maybe she just had one working for her.

"…Quest. Fine, fine, fine. What is it? Where is it? I'll go find it for you. I can sneak into tight places and people won't bother me because they think I'm just a dumb kid."

"It's, it is…let's see, I don't know WHERE it is, but I know who took it. If you find them, you'll probably find it, because they were like magpies hoarding treasures. I doubt they even know why they wanted it…ah, what I wouldn't give for a visual screen! As it is, I can only describe it." Muse moved in close to Mari again, so the girl could hear the faint hum of machinery and the screeching of her joints. "It's a black box adorned with orange and blue, no bigger than a loaf of bread. There are all kinds of buttons, and if you press the wrong one, you disappear forever! Or maybe you go somewhere else. Either way, don't push any buttons. Just find it and bring it here. I bet if you keep going further into these tunnels, you'll find them, those magpies who…"

Muse cut herself short when Cero opened the heavy doors and tapped the edge of the door three times. It must have been some kind of signal, as Muse's pupil contracted in alarm. "Oh, what awful timing! Well, I guess you'll get a preview of what you might be dealing with. Go hide. Go hide! This sort of person shouldn't see you." Muse gestured with her body at a door in the back of the room. "Cero, go hide her! Our guest can find his way in himself."

"Hide? I don't need to hide! I can-ugh! Let go of me!" Mari pulled away from Cero as he clamped a hand over her arm. He he had the vice grip of a Puppet as picked her up with more care than she expected before carrying her off around the corner into the hallway. She prepared to bite down until she realized she might just bite metal, and besides that, she wanted to stay on Muse's good side. If listening to the odd whims of a robot-thing and her cybernetic Igor would keep Grandma alive, Mari would swallow her pride and do it.

She expected Cero to shove her all the way in, but instead he kept the door open just a crack, as if inviting her to watch. He held a spindly gloved finger in front of his wrapped mouth and dimmed his eyes.

Mari wasn't scared, not exactly. The pounding of her heart was adrenaline, leaving her itching to go on her 'quest' now that she had a way to save Michelle, no matter how odd that way might be. As for Cero, before he shut the lights off in his eyes, he looked like a frightened child in a too-big body.

* * *

Cero was not a Puppet. A few of Muse's patients had called him one, but whatever kind of monstrosity he was now, he was nothing like them. They wore their alterations like medals of honor, openly brandishing extra arms or half-faceplates. Most of them weren't even sick or hurt. They just wanted to change their bodies. Why? They had been complete humans once, why would they want to be something in-between like he was?

Then again, those were their bodies. They could do whatever they wanted with them, he supposed, because those had always been their bodies. This thing he occupied wasn't his body and he knew it. His real body was sitting in storage; a burnt-out husk for the most part, its guts carved out and implanted in what was left of this  _human_. Making himself look more human was all he could think to do to get himself out of this abyss between bodies.

Sooner or later, he'd have to ask Muse what the term "puppet" meant, after he learned how to communicate again.

The stubborn human kid thankfully didn't wriggle too much as he held her back. He breathed a sigh of relief when he realized she was going to listen to Muse's orders and just hang back. It wasn't that he was afraid for her, exactly. He was afraid of her, and that glare like broken glass she was turning on the narrow space between doors. It was too familiar.

He hated things that reminded him of memories lost because they were like itches that couldn't be scratched. Apples were significant, as were potatoes, though how he couldn't even imagine. (He didn't have a stomach in that previous body, after all. What need did he have for fruits or vegetables?) Sometimes he'd look at a certain shade of orange and find himself overcome with loneliness. The associations made no sense, as if his own damaged memory files were taunting him. Maybe they were, the little traitors. Served them right being damaged or deleted if they were going to be such little tricksters.

That gaze in Mari's eyes, though. It wasn't the eyes themselves, or their dark brown-black color. None of that was significant at all. The expression was what did it. He'd never seen that expression on anyone before, not even in the most arrogant and defiant patients, and yet it felt horribly familiar. It brought to mind a wave of guilt like nausea; guilt and paranoia that he'd be held responsible for something he didn't remember doing. Would he have done it? He couldn't have done anything to this girl, could he? Muse didn't recognize her, unless the two of them were in on some game made to play with his mind. He wouldn't put it past Muse, really, except that it seemed like a lot of effort just to pull one over on him.

To try to fight off the shivers of guilt, he turned his attention towards the laboratory, peeking through the doorway. As expected, he heard the step-clang-step-clang of the visitor, who greeted Muse with an off-kilter bow. He wore a long coat and the parts of his skin visible were bone-pale. His movements suggested he'd been consuming alcohol. ("Stay away from that stuff," Muse had warned Cero. "It will interfere with your medications and your sense of creativity.")

"I come," the man said, "on behalf of a friend. But you know that, don't you, fair lady?"

Muse tilted her optic. "What are you doing here at this time, Hooper? You don't have an appointment. That's very rude. Well, what is it you want? I told you, I can't give you more alterations for another week. You'll bleed too much as you are now. And you've been drinking."

Hooper had implant-eyes like Cero's, though the other man's weren't still rimmed with bruises, much to Cero's jealousy. They glowed a faint yellow, a shade off from Cosmo's optic. "Not for me! He wants to know if you have any parts. You know. Have anything to trade."

Cero felt Mari tense and let go of her reflexively, though thankfully she stayed put. He couldn't imagine what was making her so angry, but her light brown skin was turning a shade of furious dark red in the dim light. That stare was back, so cold and accusing he couldn't bear to look at it even when it came from a child and even when it wasn't directed at him.

Muse tapped her little arms together, oblivious to Mari's awful stares. "Not much today, I'm afraid. Do you need kidneys? I suspect you'll need a liver if you keep drinking like that."

"Are you moralizing at me, my lady?"

"Of course not! Morals are a social construct, or something, somesuch. I'm just saying." Muse rolled her optic. "That said, if you have a special request, you're welcome to pass it on to me. I'm sure sooner or later someone will decide they want something replaced, and what am I going to do with it?"

Cero's hand inadvertently went to his chest, where the bubbling tubes and vents took the place of lungs. If Muse had 'spare parts,' why hadn't she given this human regular lungs instead of things that hurt whenever he breathed in?

Hooper just chuckled. "I think you are hiding something, my lady. I think you are hiding something and we are going to find it, and we are going to find something to trade it for. Something you cannot go without. But if you insist I keep playing your game, so be it." He spun around and wandered out in that strange, drunken gait.

The moment the door slammed shut, Mari broke free of Cero's grip and ran back into the room. He stared, mortified, as she glared right up at a startled Muse.

"You're an organ trafficker. You're stealing 'parts!"

Muse's optic shrank again, and her voice sounded flustered. "No, no! No, you misunderstand. You misunderstood that entire exchange. I don't TAKE things from people that they NEED. Not unless they offer it, or they're too dead to do too much with it."

"That's disgusting."

The sideways eyelid narrowed. "You can call it that if you want. You know, all that about personal morality and everything. If I have spare human parts laying around, and they have machine parts I need to keep functioning, we make a trade. I have to do it to keep myself alive, and they do it because…oh, who cares? I doubt they eat them. Obviously you feel moral enough to judge me for this, but if I shut down and die, who else can save your grandmother?"

Mari fell quiet, though the glare didn't subside. Oh, it was awful! It made him want to curl up in a corner and hide in the closet, and he hadn't even done anything.

"Are you going to turn away from me and leave? You can, you know. There's no contract or anything. You can walk away from this whenever you like. Cero will show you the way out and from there you just follow the tunnels until they lead you up or down, depending on where you want to go. Up takes you home, and down leads you to where the thieves likely live, if I'm correct. Eventually, anyway. It's funny, the subway tunnels beneath this city, they're very…long and complicated…well, anyway. Leave if you want. I won't mind. Frankly I don't like the presence of children. You're so mercurial, you unnerve me…"

Cero figured that Mari would do just that, but the girl stayed put, finally looking down.

"Oh, but you're willing to work with 'morally compromised' people for the sake of love!" Muse's sugary tone returned, without a drop of irony. "I should have expected no less. Well, it's getting late anyway, and neither one of you wants to be out at night, of course. Cero, lead the girl to the exit. Little bird, if you do want to work with me, show up tomorrow morning and find my friend again. He'll accompany you down to the tunnels."

Wait. What?

Perhaps Cero's stunned expression was obvious, or maybe Muse caught on to Cero shaking his head, crossing his arms, and desperately trying to signal his displeasure in every way possible. She just laughed. "Of course she needs a guide! It'll be good for you, experiencing something dangerous, Cero."

Cero's stomach turned and he gave a desperate look to Mari. Maybe the brave, terrible girl would develop a sense of compassion and insist she could go by herself?

Instead, Mari hesitated before squeezing one of his metal fingers, looking up at him. She wasn't glaring at least, even if she wasn't smiling. "It's alright. We can do this. There's nothing to be scared of." Her voice sounded hollow, but there was a different look in her eyes, one he couldn't place.

How selfish and cruel of her, insisting he accompany her! The resentment already blooming in him brought about another unfamiliar twitch. He smothered it so as not to encounter another unscratchable itch.

Still, how terribly selfish.

_"You know what you are? Selfish. I've done nothing but sacrifice to get us here."_

Oh, there was another one of those internal audio files. Of course he was the only one who could hear it, as he didn't exactly have speakers. He didn't expect it to start playing on its own, though. Maybe the mixed emotions were messing with his memory files. Maybe those pesky files were being mischievous again. What good did it do him? A sentence like that only meant that he'd been used as a selfless martyr before, which was not at all a surprise.

Mari said very little as he escorted her back to the entrance, which hardly helped endear her to him. When others didn't talk, he felt the need to fill the silence, which left him thinking of things he would say if he could.  _What were you doing there, yelling at Muse? She's batty, you could tell that! You really shouldn't have anything to do with this place, but got to save your old Gran, I guess? What, did she lose her false teeth? Needs metal ones, now? Let me tell you, it's quite a mess you've gotten me into, kid. Also, if you could perhaps never turn that weird glare on again, I'd really appreciate that. It's dangerous! You shouldn't just point that at people._ Sure enough, she'd never glared at him that way. Thank goodness for small miracles. No wonder Muse disliked children; they were little monsters, cruel enough to shut up at just the wrong moment.

Mari paused at the entrance, holding a hand up to shield her eyes from the reddish-orange glare of the setting sun. "I'll be there tomorrow, okay? It'll be fine. We'll fetch her thing and I'll fix Grandma and you'll never have to see me again. I can tell you don't like me."

Cero stiffened and waved his arms in front of him in denial.  _What? Dislike? Oh, not at all, please! We just had a bad first impression. Please don't think poorly of me, I can't stand it when people do that…_

"No, it's fine. Just promise when you meet Grandma, you'll be nice to her. You won't make her mad. Okay? If you make her mad, I don't care if you're a Puppet or not…"

Seeing even the faintest sign of That Glare on Mari's features, Cero nodded in frightened panic. Mari's mouth quirked up, almost as if something was funny, but she turned away before she would explain anything else.

Was she laughing at him?

"You always look so scared. I don't know what's frightening to someone like you. Muse is a robot, right? She'll never…" Mari bit her thumb and looked back at Cero once more. "Bye. See you tomorrow…"

She ran off, probably to avoid the things that came out at night. It was the same reason why Cero started bolting for the tunnels the moment he realized how low the sun was. Long bloody days of summer indeed! He had no idea what exactly came out at night, but if Muse wanted nothing to do with it, Cero certainly didn't.

As he dashed inside the clinic and bolted the door, something inside of his mind flashed. No, it was more like a switch had been turned on, and he realized if he wanted to, he could backtrack through that audio file which had played itself earlier. Maybe that way, he could reconstruct what exactly was going on.

_"Well, maybe it's time I did something, then."_  That was useless. It meant he did something, apparently. Though he did wonder why exactly he sounded so angry and cold. Perhaps someone had turned on him? He rewound a bit further.

_"I did this! Tiny little Wheatley did this."_

Wheatley. Wheatley? Was that his name? It had to be, didn't it? If it had just been 'Tiny little Wheatley did this,' that would have been of no help, but he was referring to himself. Yes. Wheatley felt right. Wheatley.

Cero meant zero. Wheatley meant…something about wheat? Odd. Was he involved in industrial farming, maybe? Was that why all the non-memories surrounding apples and potatoes?

"Oh, my little doll, your eyes lit up like stars!" Muse hovered above Cero, blinking. "Did something happen? Did you get a memory back perhaps, or figure something out?"

Cero nodded eagerly. Wheatley. Yes, Wheatley! He was Wheatley, not Cero. He'd tell her to call him that now, it was only right.

He opened his mouth, and nothing came out. Oh, right.

"Well, that's good! You were so brave today, for such a little coward, I might have a reward for you later. Go to your room and wait for dinner now, and make sure to take all your medications. Goodnight, Cero."

Cero. He was Cero, until he could tell anyone otherwise. His real name was a secret he didn't want to keep.

When he fixed his mind and his voice, he'd delete the name 'Cero' right from his databanks, and that would be that.

* * *

P-body was Peabody now. She didn't quite understand the difference, but God told her it was important, and she wouldn't question God's wisdom.

The new body would take some getting used to, in part because it felt so impractical. The fingers were too tiny, the arms too spindly and the legs didn't even have built-in long fall capabilities. She had to remind herself that the sturdy-built man standing next to her was Atlas, her Atlas, wearing a different kind of skin at God's request. He was just as handsome in a different way, but he didn't look like her Atlas. At least his movements were still Atlas's, the way he stomped his foot in impatience, or walked just a step ahead of her with a cocky grin. She knew enough about human faces to at least recognize expressions when she saw them.

There were other differences between their bodies. God had told Peabody that her body was shaped like something called "female," and Atlas was "male," whatever that meant.  _("It has to do with how you call him a 'he,'"_ God had explained, though that had been of no help at all.) Peabody had long, thick black hair, and Atlas's was cut shorter, with some of it on his face.

They stood at the entrance to Aperture where, as God had promised, they'd found a jeep. Of course, they'd had to dispose of the jeep's driver, but God had insisted She knew what to do with such humans. Thanks to God's programming, Peabody knew how to drive as naturally as she understood the Dual Portal Device, which was stashed in the jeep's trunk.

_It shouldn't be too far from here. If my indications are correct, it's just a few hours' drive. I'd floor it if I were you, if you want to get there before midnight. Oh, and you do want to get there before midnight, if you don't want to be stuck in those bodies for a month doing nothing. I'm certainly not letting you back in while you look like humans._

Whatever Peabody thought of this body, there was something reassuring and comforting about hearing the voice of God in her mind, thanks to a built-in wireless connection. God would be able to contact them wherever they went. She would see what they would see, and tell them what to do. If they disobeyed, God would blow them up. It was a brand new kind of test, and more importantly, it meant that God really did trust Atlas and Peabody.

How merciful She was, and loving!

_Don't be surprised if you get some stares,_ God added.  _The Aperture Science Human Likeness Androids are designed to look slightly better than humans are supposed to look, in part because no matter what I think of you, you're still superior to all of humanity by virtue of not being human. So I made you look better than human. It's called the Uncanny Valley effect, in which humans feel discomfort at seeing something not quite human because they are hilariously stupid._

_Now, hurry up and drive. Aperture tech has a common signature, so you'll know when you're getting close. Get in there, take back what is MINE and bring it back to me. There should only be two things, though you know what to do if you find any more._

Penelope smiled at Atlas, which is what happened when she moved her face while she was happy, and gave him a playful hug. He grunted and rubbed the back of his neck, nudging her on while she drove towards the sunset.

_Believe me,_ GLaDOS said,  _the city's really hard to miss._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, at this point we've caught up with the chapters I have up so far at FF.net. I'll try to update semi-regularly from here.


	4. The Tale of the Flame

_Once upon a time, a moth hovered near a candle flame. The flame took no notice of the moth, but the little insect came to memorize its every flicker and dance. A cold wind came and extinguished the candle, and the moth didn’t know what to do with itself anymore except dwell on its memories of the flame._

**Some Time Ago**

Space was Space Core because he was designated so in his programming. He never questioned why he should be a Space Core, or why Aperture would need one, because it never mattered to him. He knew there was a thing called space, and he loved it.

He never entirely understood why the nice lady had rescued him from the pit of other cores, or what ‘corrupted’ meant. He didn’t know why the ID Core was so angry at the time. All he knew was that he was in space now, and had been for some time. Space was bigger than anything he’d ever seen, with no walls or ceilings, and it went on forever. It was a sea of suspended lights where no one could ever label him ‘corrupt’ or put him in a small, dark place. Space was lovely. Space was Heaven.

Space would have been lonely, if not for the ID Core.

"Well, I mean, what else could I do? How else were we supposed to get out? I didn't know it would do THAT and I would do THAT and...I've told you this already. I'm talking in circles, aren't I, mate?"

The ID Core talked constantly, as if he were actually just programmed to do so. For a long time it was a background noise against the silence of space, and Space barely noticed. Over time, however, it occurred to him that the ID Core was saying words, and he started to understand those words, more or less. At the very least, he could tell from ID’s tone that the blue core wasn’t happy. How could the blue core be unhappy? To try to rectify this, Space Core would remind him of their situation in hopes it would cheer ID Core up.

“Space, space. We’re in space! Circles in space. Circles around the Earth.”

"It's just that you, you don't ever respond to anything I say! So I just talk to myself, on and on and on. Except I'm really starting to tire of that, you know? I'm becoming a bore. I am bored with myself. I'm even running out of things to talk about! We just saw a comet or something and I can't even think about that. You know why?" ID’s optic had shrunk to a pinpoint.

Space still didn’t understand. Why was ID so unhappy? Didn’t he realize they were in space? Perhaps he had forgotten. “Space?”

"Because everything, absolutely bloody everything reminds me of her and Her and THERE and what I did. You'd think I'd have the good times to think about too, right? I mean, the way she kind of smirked at me sometimes and how I made her laugh once in a while, she probably thinks of that sometimes, right? Right? She hates me, she bloody absolutely hates me and I really agree at this point. I mean, I'm being such a downer to myself. I want to ENJOY my time here before my batteries run out. Can't believe that hasn't happened yet, by the way, solar power, who would have known...good old Aperture...Yes, I guess I'm not going to run out after all, I'm just going to...just..."

Space didn’t want the ID Core to stop talking. No one had ever talked to him back when Aperture was full of people. No one told him what space was like. No one told him why he couldn’t just go into space. He didn’t mind exactly, because space existed, but hearing someone speak to him at length like humans spoke to humans felt like a fishing lure. The more he heard, the more the rambling sounded like words. The more those words started to make sense, the better he was able to concentrate on anything besides space.

 “Space?”

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP ABOUT SPACE! I know about space! We've been in it! For years! Bloody YEARS now.” The ID Core swiveled, the way he had when the lady had stuck Space on the big body. “I realize there is not much to see besides space but don't you have any interests or hobbies or recipes to share or something?"

“…Space? Space recipes?” Space had none of these. His hobby was space. His interest was space. Was that wrong? He looked away, concentrating on a distant cluster of stars. ID Core was raising his voice, suggesting anger. That wasn’t ID Core’s job; it was Anger Core’s purpose to be angry. Why wasn’t space making him happy? Space made Space happy. Usually.

The ID Core was not interested in space recipes. "You have heard me explain what an absolute arse I was to the only person who ever-I don't know, she bloody _tolerated_ me. I'm sorry, that's not fair, you've been tolerating me too, haven't you? God, talking like I'm stuck in Hell and here you are, you're stuck here with me, I'm here and I'm still screwing things up for someone who doesn't need me to screw up their lives..." The Core’s eye was lowered and half-lidded, which meant sadness.

“I don’t mind. Space.”  Space tried to imitate ID Core’s body language, but he couldn’t manage it. Space was too exciting.

"...That's...that's tremendous of you, mate, that's grand.” The ID Core’s voice softened. “I just can't keep doing it, you know? I keep replaying my own words in my memory over and over because I keep thinking at some point I'll come up with a rationalization that feels right and I'll feel better about the whole thing and this awful guilt will go away. Who programs a robot to feel guilt? What sort of purpose does that serve? Who thinks, 'yes, and just in case little Wheatley manages to achieve something great for once and uses it to be a total nightmare to someone who didn't deserve it (and to be fair, to be fair, someone who definitely DID,) let's make sure he feels like an absolute heel forever and ever afterwards.”

The ID Core wasn’t making any sense. ‘Guilt’ was reserved for the Guilt Core, which GLaDOS had incinerated long ago. “Space?”

“I mean, I feel like if I could talk to her...if I could just EXPLAIN everything, it'd feel better, wouldn't it? If I could apologize...but I'm up here, and she's down there, or dead, or down there and dead, and if she were up here she'd be dead for sure because humans kind of explode in space...you mentioned that, didn't you? That was you who told me that, wasn't it..."

“Space is a vacuum.” Space gave a proud nod. For some reason, this fact didn’t seem to cheer ID Core up.

"It is, yes, it sure is...you know, I kind of envy you. You're in some kind of zen state. You know what you like, and you focus on it. I never really knew what I liked. Wanted, sure, I wanted to be safe and important, preferably at the same time, but you, you know exactly what you are. You're Space Core. You appreciate space. And-and I appreciate that. Listen, mate, I've had this idea for a long time, I want to tell you first..."

“Space idea…?” Perhaps the ID Core was suggesting they figure out how to build thrusters on themselves! Then they could fly through space of their own power instead of merely orbiting, on and on forever past Jupiter and Neptune and the other planets Space couldn’t quite remember.

"See, thing is, I'm never going to get rid of this guilt. It's my present, and my foreseeable future, and all I have is my past, which brings me back to the thing I can't forget no matter how hard I try. Unless I specifically attempt to forget. Delete files! That's all, just got to delete the right memory files and I'll be fine. Restored to innocence, as they say. I mean, it's not a copout, is it? Not cowardly. What am I supposed to do? Can't make it up to her, can't apologize to her, and I doubt a loving God would really want me to float in space forever in a Hell of my own making until I finally stop working for some reason or another or crash into rubble."

Delete files? “Space God is merciful,” Space reminded the ID Core. “Space God loves us. Space God is better than Time God. Time God is Cronus, he ate his kids.” The term _delete files_ meant something, but when Space tried to remember what, he was distracted with thoughts of comets and black holes.

"Yes, see, you understand-what? Really? That's disgusting. What is wrong with gods? Wait, where was I...anyway, as I was saying, this is really the only plan I have left. Took me a while to come up with it, but I think it's a sound idea. Get to reset myself, delete just enough files to forget the bad times, and then I'll be able to admire the beauty of space until we hit a comet. Only thing is, it does mean I'll forget you, mate."

“...Space?”

 

"Just thought I'd warn you.” ID Core sounded excited at the prospect of forgetting, and somehow that hurt. “I know I've been a bit abrasive in the time we've had together, and I want to apologize, but you have to understand I have to think of myself for once and my psychological well-being! You'll see, you'll get to talk to me when I'm happy again, and I'm sure I was a much better...person when I was happy and optimistic about things. You'll like me much better. So, that means that technically this is goodbye, except it's also hello! New beginnings, and all that."

“…No space…?” Was the ID Core going to go away? Was that what ‘goodbye’ meant?

"No, still in space, still in space! Can't do anything about that...now, uh, hold on...just got to...there we go, yes I'm sure, yes I'm absolutely sure I-" ID’s optic blanked out for a few seconds, displaying a quick flash of static.

“DON’T!”

ID Core was silent, and the quiet was dreadful. Space looked around at the stars and the Earth below. Why were they so quiet? Wouldn’t someone talk to him? Something? All Space could think about was space, and in violation of his programming, space was frightening him.

The blue optic lit up once more, and ID Core became animate. "...Uh, um, hmm. Pardon me, mate. Three questions. Who are you, who am I, and what's all this?"

Oh, that’s what _delete files_ meant.

"...Space. This is space..."

**Present**

Peabody had never seen a city before. She had no idea how to discern an intact city from a ruined one. Thus when she drove up to the city limits of what was once known as Carradon, Michigan, all she could think was how disorganized it all looked.

It was kind of God to install night vision in their eyes, but it seemed they wouldn’t need it. The whole city shimmered with blue and orange lights soaring in the sky above it, illuminating buildings crumbling and intact. Piles of rubble surrounded bent wires and girders. Here and there, smoke rose up, tinted by the colored lights. The grass surrounding the city limits turned a stark dead yellow.

“How dirty,” Peabody muttered. “It looks like when the First God was in charge.” God had since informed them that the First God had been incorrect in his methods and attempts to ‘fix’ Aperture. The way She rebuilt their home as a perfect labyrinth of cold grey was as it should have been. “Maybe you could clean up here?”

The voice of God spoke to both of them at once, through remote communication. _Yes, because I’d love to spend my time fixing up a human habitation infested by humans. The Combine was their problem. They can find a solution._

“Oh! Yes, of course.” Peabody lowered her head, properly chastised, and Atlas calmed her by setting a broad hand on her arm.

_You couldn’t have driven faster? At this rate you’ll miss the entry point and we’ll have to wait another 30 days. Of course, if we have to do that, I might send someone else and give you a little vacation in the incinerator._

Without another word, Peabody slammed on the gas and drove the jeep as far as she could go. It sputtered and shut down mere feet from the strange grass line near city limits. Atlas climbed out first and offered Peabody a hand to help her down.

_Hurry, Hurry!_ The voice of God urged them on. _You have less than a minute!_

The two of them ran, Peabody deciding she’d have time to get used to the human-looking body after they beat the time limit God spoke of. She was a little faster than Atlas, as she was long and lithe while he was shorter and thicker. At the last stretch, she grabbed his arm and pulled him past. As she did, her head whipped past and the long hair God had created for her new body flew behind her.

A wall of brilliant light burst just behind her, the impact throwing them both forward. The energy wall sliced the lock of Peabody’s black hair right off, and on that spot a distortion of crackling white light spread through the hot, pulsing barrier which swirled orange and blue patterns. A wave of interference filled Peabody’s mind with static and confusion, and she held her head until it passed.

The wall remained as Peabody booted her vision back up again. This time Atlas helped her back up, as she’d landed in a pile of concrete rubble. They both turned to stare at the light wall. Atlas was the first to speak in a gravelly voice. “What is it, then?”

There was no answer.

“Um…” This time, Peabody tried to communicate with God. “Excuse me, but you know what this is, right? So if you could please tell us, Miss GLaDOS…”

The answer was nothing but static and feedback. The wall had cut off their reception from GLaDOS, leaving them truly alone. Peabody hugged Atlas in a panicked reaction, and from the way his blue eyes widened, he felt the same way.

_…Ah, right. I thought that might happen._ The voice of God speaking to them internally sounded different somehow, but it was definitely Her. Peabody could have cried in relief, if her orange eyes were capable of tears and if she understood the purpose behind crying.

_Dimensional distortion field. It’s pretty hard to communicate with you remotely through something like that. As I predicted the possibility, I installed this bit here in both of you. It’s just a backup, smaller version of me. I’ll advise you and record everything you see, and once you’ve completed the mission and returned, my ‘real’ self will download that data and delete this inferior copy. Think of me as the angel on your shoulder and do exactly as I say._

Peabody stared down at her chest, having a feeling the GLaDOS-copy was inside there in some sense. Well, that was the location of her central processing unit, after all. Once the threat of being cut off from God had passed, she squeezed Atlas’s hand and enjoyed the tactile sensation of artificial skin as she looked at her surroundings.

They were near some kind of building, or half of it, the windows broken and the building itself mostly a collapsed ruin. Here and there dandelions poked out, and up above a grassy patch turned orange and blue in the sky lights that obscured the stars. There were humanoid shapes approaching them, led by one who had a curiously unstable walk. The light reflected strangely on the stranger’s face as she approached.

It became clear why when she walked close enough. The left half of her face was encased in plated metal, with glinting teeth showing in a permanent half-grimace on that side. She wore a long black coat, and her curious facial decoration didn’t seem to impede her speech. “Oi, look! Look who’s out past curfew.”

Peabody just looked to Atlas in confusion and shrugged. “We’re not from around here,” she said plainly. “We don’t have to follow a curfew.”

“Is that so?” The half-metal woman laughed, and her entourage did the same. Some were equally decorated in curious ways, one with a beautifully filigreed metal arm, another completely normal but carrying a small, worm-shaped segmented robot in its arms the size of a cat. “Well,” the leader said after spitting, “here’s the rules. Night belongs to the Puppets. You’ve come out after night, so we get to take what we want. What do you say, her pretty hair? His lovely blue eyes? You think Muse’ll pay good for something like that? Such pretty things…”

_Oh, well, I wasn’t exactly expecting that. Cybernetic enhancements, though with a garish aesthetic. Then again, what do I know what humans have been up to? Well, no big deal. Get rid of them._

Peabody sent a curious signal as the humans approached, and the voice repeated. _Your bodies are perfect. I know, because I built them. You’re stronger than a bunch of half-metal humans, and none of them look like anything I’d want to use as a test subject. Get rid of them. I don’t care how._

She looked to Atlas, and then to her own hands, and picked up a chunk of a broken iron rod. Well, if God said so…

 

As Cero sat up in bed, unable to sleep, he decided he didn’t really mind being unable to tell his name to anyone. The name ‘Wheatley’ was his own secret. He knew it and no one else did. Therefore he was more intelligent than everyone else in at least one way. It was growing tiresome feeling foolish around Muse, who clearly knew things and didn’t tell them. Obviously the way to be smart was not to tell people what you knew and look down on them for not knowing.

That meant Cero, who couldn’t tell anyone anything, was brilliant.

He went over the sound of the name in his mind, practicing until he could mouth it even if he couldn’t say it. Whee-tlee. It sounded so much more dignified than ‘Cero,’ with its repeating vowel sound. Cero didn’t have a single long e sound in it. Long e was a very dignified sound.

Setting his chin and elbows on his knees, he went over phrases he’d managed to uncover from what was left of his data. Something about ‘boxes with legs,’ something about a HER, though whether SHE was the same person he was yelling at a few times he couldn’t tell. The bits that remained were tattered patches and nothing felt familiar. Even the name Wheatley was just something he apparently used to call himself, not part of him. If he didn’t know better, he’d have figured he was a new creature built out of one dead robot and one nearly-dead human.

But he knew he had been something else once, not only because he still had the vivid memories of being in space with that yellow core constantly rambling about it and asking him questions he couldn’t answer. No, the fact that Mari’s glare had hit him with an injection of fear and guilt even when it wasn’t aimed at him was proof that he’d at least experienced it before. There was something in it. When he tried to mimic it in the mirror, he ended up grimacing foolishly and gave up. Just as well, as the less time he spent looking at the body in the mirror, the better.

The body itself, which he loathed to think of as ‘his body,’ wasn’t behaving. His stomach churned even though he’d eaten nothing particularly unusual that night, just the typical canned food and goopy oatmeal stuff. Couldn’t humans turn that off? Couldn’t they at least get their organs to function properly? If something in his mechanical systems wasn’t working, he could run a diagnostic and figure out what was going on. His guts offered no such service.

It had to be the human part of him that was so disgusted when he looked at his hands, chest and face. He pulled his gloves off and rolled up his sleeve, staring at one of his cybernetic hands. It was long and spindly, made of metal shaped like bone, and the fingers were long and pointed at the ends. Frankly it was much more sensible and convenient than his feet, which ached after a long day of work, or his disagreeable organ systems. Where did the sense of wrongness come from? Why was he so desperate to cover up the machine parts with cloth or fake skin? If he were all machine parts, he’d still be an ugly human in shape but he wouldn’t feel like he had to eat and then regret eating.

A yellow light streamed through the doorway and the sound of clicking metal forecasted the arrival of a metal sphere on spider legs. Cero smiled and pat the side of his bed, beckoning Cosmo to climb up next to him. Cosmo went about Muse’s laboratory as he pleased, though he usually seemed preoccupied with ceilings and walls, tapping them as if he were trying to climb them. The little robot’s agitation always seemed to cease when he saw Cero, and he’d follow Cero around like a puppy. Cosmo shoved his awkward round body up onto the bed and looked up at Cero with that big yellow optic of his, blinking happily when Cero pat him on the “head.”

Cosmo was a comforting presence. Cero was always happy to see anyone who was actually happy to see him. He resolved to remember to ask Muse if he could take Cosmo on his next non-deadly errand so the poor boy could see the sunlight as soon as Cero figured out how to ask that.

Sure as he was that sleep wouldn’t come anytime soon, he decided to return to his hobby. He’d scavenged up a broken chalkboard and hunks of chalk from Muse’s piles and piles of assorted _stuff_ filling useless closets and otherwise-empty rooms. They were trinkets, things given to her as payment, and like magpie she used them to adorn her lair without making much use of them. No doubt the little box she wanted Cero to find was no different, like the hats, chunks of plastic, broken spectacles and stained books lying in heaps.

The chalkboard was actually useful to Cero at least. It helped that he had hands. He wasn’t programmed to read and had no idea where to start learning, but he found if he moved the chalk around the board in certain patterns he could create pictures. They weren’t very good, but after practicing over and over he had managed to create a circle with a leaf-shape on top. For some reason the few shreds of intact memory data he had included the word “apple.” He’d assumed seeing one would bring something to mind, but neither the apples at the marketplace nor his crude sketch did anything of the sort. Well, at least he had a skill.

The struggle to keep his dinner down was proving to be a losing battle, and he covered his mouth with his exposed hand before rushing to the lavatory. As he finished heaving into the toilet and slumped on his knees on the floor, a voice chirped from one of the crudely-installed speakers in the hallway.

“Oh, are you alright?” Muse’s voice dripped syrupy concern. “The antibiotics sometimes interfere with digestion. You see, you use bacteria to process food, and antibiotics don’t discriminate. You need those antibiotics to stay healthy, though, at least until we’re sure you’re cured of any infection from the implants. Of course, you also need to eat to stay healthy. Humanity is a contradiction, isn’t it? A beautiful contradiction.”

Even though he knew Muse could only see it through security camera, he glared up in a general direction at her.

“Don’t look at me like that. You need to get some sleep anyway. You’re going with that girl, remember?”

The glare continued.

“It’s going to be good for you. I just have a feeling about it. Despite what you might think, I really do want the best for you. Besides, I really want that thing, whatever it was. I get the impression we’ll be much happier if we know where it is.” She spoke nonchalantly, not as if she was lying but as if she was speaking of an errand to be run. “So please, do go wash up and…”

Her voice was overtaken by static. A second later, Cero’s entire mind flooded with incoherence, his vision cutting out as error messages flashed before his eyes. It lasted only briefly, but when it was over he was staring at the cold floor, shivering.

“Well!” Muse sounded taken aback herself. “That was certainly something, wasn’t it? I wonder what it was. I’d say it was the distortion field, about time for it, but there was something extra to it this time. It rarely hits me like that. What a doozy! But life is full of surprises.” She laughed. “Now, do go to sleep. I’ve got work to do. Finding out what that is.”

With one last look up at Muse, Cero rose to his feet, moving for the washbasin. When he tried to run a diagnostic and figure out exactly what had happened, in case it was one of Muse’s tricks, nothing came up at all. By the time he returned to his room, Cosmo had wandered off, and could be heard scraping against the walls of the hallway trying in vain to climb.

“Oh! Wait, oh yes. Now I remember! There was something I wanted to give you.” Muse interrupted Cero’s vain attempt to sleep as she buzzed back into the room on her rail, clicking her metal appendages together eagerly.

At Cero’s curious look, she extended a wire into the port in the back of his neck, sending a painful jolt through his entire body. “Yes, it hurts now, but you’ll thank me later!”

 

There were different Looks, all of them more effective than thousands of words. Michelle had spent years mastering every one after waking up in a dormitory chamber with a dry throat and a cotton feeling in her mouth.

At first silence had been a survival tactic. Speaking to a disembodied and possibly prerecorded voice would only cost her energy and breath and earn her nothing in return. She needed silence in order to hear turret gunfire and chirped AI warnings. At that time she’d put all of her vitality into running, jumping and aiming to stay alive. When Michelle became aware of Her, silence became a weapon, a reminder that no matter what GLaDOS said she would elicit no response. GLaDOS could make her test, forever, but could not make her talk. That was when she started using the Looks, reminding the massive computer that she might have been an unlikable orphan but she was an unlikable orphan who wasn’t afraid.

When she found herself waking up in another chamber, this one tattered and falling apart, she found she no longer had the energy to talk even when a voice and face (of sorts) finally addressed her like a person. Besides, he responded to her expressions, her curious frowns, finger-taps of concern and even the occasional smile. He spoke enough for the both of them, until such time came that she had to use her silence as a weapon against him.

It had actually taken months before she found herself able to speak again, and even now her tongue often felt thick and out of practice. She could speak, of course, and did; gazes alone couldn’t convey some of what she needed to teach Mari, nor could it help her ask directions in rebuilt towns. Still, she often found herself falling back on the power of body language and facial expression.

As she ate breakfast with Mari, Michelle carefully employed facial expression #24, You Know What You Did But I’m Going To Let You Confess. Mari had been gone all day after admitting to seeking out a doctor, and the girl’s hands fidgeted as bit into a hot biscuit. Her dark brown eyes kept looking over her shoulder, as if she expected an angel to judge her from above. She kept smiling at Michelle without saying much or maintaining eye contact. Children were transparent in their own way.

A man near the marketplace sold biscuits at the crack of dawn, sizzling on a fire. They were uneven in shape and dry without butter, but substantial nonetheless. Michelle had forced herself up early enough to procure a few for herself and her granddaughter. If Expression #24 did not produce the truth from Mari, a special treat would.

Mari looked at Michelle, then the ground, dusted crumbs off of her pants and slumped her shoulders. “Okay. I kind of went to someone about you.”

Michelle tilted her head, carefully concealing the alarm triggered by the word ‘someone.’ Let Mari explain.

“She’s kind of a doctor? I mean, I don’t know how to explain her, but she’s a doctor and she’ll fix you. Okay?” Mari tugged at one of Michelle’s calloused hands, shifting back on her heels. “It’s only because…I know you’re sick and the other doctors wouldn’t look at you, but she will…”

Looks could not convey everything. Michelle kept her expression neutral, but set a reassuring hand on Mari’s shoulder. “Who is she?”

“Uh, like I said, she’s kind of a doctor…”

Michelle cupped Mari’s chin in her hand. “Look at me. Who is she?”

“…I think she’s a computer. I mean, I didn’t know computers like that existed. I know you don’t like them! And she’s kind of creepy but no one else will even SEE you…”

Deep breaths. Michelle had no reason to suspect it was Her. GLaDOS was in Aperture and could not leave. That was evident in the bitterness and sadness with which she had banished ‘Chell.’ There was no reason to believe anything had changed in decades when GLaDOS had _science_ to do. “What did she want.”

“Want?” Mari ran a hand through her short hair and scratched her scalp, refusing once again to make eye contact. “What makes you think she wants something? She’s-she might be doing this outta the goodness of her heart. I mean, her robot heart.”

“What did she want.”

“…I just need to help her find something, that’s all. Not me! Not just me alone. She’s got this guy working for her. I think he’s a Puppet but he doesn’t talk or anything. Keeps pointing at his throat if you ask so I think he just can’t.” Mari’s gaze carefully studied her sneakered feet. “It shouldn’t be hard. You said to stay alive at all costs, right? Just survive. So I’ll do this so you can just survive.”

“ _You_ survive.” Michelle didn’t realize she’d raised her voice until she saw Mari flinch, and took a deep breath. It hurt a little to kneel down, but she did so anyway so she could level with Mari. “I’m fine.”

Mari’s composure fractured and tears welled in her eyes. “No you’re not! You’re going to-I’m not ready yet. You’re not ready yet! Please…”

The girl buried her face in Michelle’s shirt, staining it with tears, and Michelle wrapped her arms around Mari. She’d hoped she’d be able to hide it even from a child. To some extent, she herself was ready. It had occurred to her that some questions would never have answers. If closure was what she’d been seeking this whole time, who was to say she’d find it in another ten or 20 years?

But perhaps not yet. There was always going to be something ready to wake her up.

“It’s okay.” She didn’t know what else to say. “But you come back. Even if you fail. Come back.”

Mari pulled away, immediately trying to hide any signs that she’d been crying. “I know you’re mad.”

“I’m not.” Michelle stood back up again, leaning against her walking stick. “Let me meet this person.”

“The computer? She’s kind of…”

“Your guide.” That would be the key. Michelle would simply make it clear to Mari’s ‘guide’ that if anything happened to the girl, another AI was going to have a terrible day.

“Oh! Uh, Cero.” Mari wiped her eyes on her sleeve and sniffed. “Sure, he’s coming in a little bit to meet me. He looks kind of weird but I think he’s just afraid of everything. So you know, I gotta be there to make sure he doesn’t lose his nerve. Gotta protect him.”

There was a familiar note to that. It brought to mind pleasant memories amid harsh ones. She ruffled Mari’s hair and nodded. Still, the protective instinct was a dangerous one. It led Michelle to offer trust to someone who apparently deserve it. It sent young girls down to find dangerous AIs. Perhaps a flawed partner, a grouchy grandmother or even one’s archenemy in a potato were all still better than being alone.

Footsteps crunched over the dirt and broken pavement as a tall figure approached. Michelle immediately snapped her attention towards the onlooker, though she knew the Puppets rarely came out in the day. If this was the Puppet Mari was talking about, he hid it rather poorly. His limbs were a bit too long and thin even under layers and layers of clothing, his face was hidden by a scarf but even dark glasses couldn’t hide the blue ocular implants. Come to think of it, wasn’t it that shade of blue? Probably a coincidence, as it always was. It was a common color for implants…

She realized a bit late she must have been fixing him with a suspicious stare out of old habit, and caught herself when he shrank back. Mari spun around and grabbed the man’s big gloved hand, apparently unperturbed by his strange appearance.

“See? This is my guide. So I’ll be fine. Cero, this is my grandma, Michelle. Sometimes she goes by Chell. She can talk but doesn’t like to do so very often. Grandma, this is Cero. He can’t say anything.”

Michelle offered a wave to the man but couldn’t help but notice how distracted he seemed. He kept looking at her and turning away, like a frightened cat not yet ready to run and hide. Maybe Mari was right and he really was afraid of his own shadow.

The body language was oddly familiar. What did she recognize the odd head-tilts from, the digitized ‘blinking’ of the implants? What was it about that color blue…?

“I’m coming.”

Both Mari and Cero turned to stare at her.

“I’m coming too.” Narrowed eyes made it clear to the other two that she had nothing else to say, and grabbed her walking stick.

“Uh, but you can’t! You’re…” Mari looked to Cero for a second, but he hesitated to so much as make a move towards Michelle. It was as if the Puppet was afraid of her, which suited Michelle just fine. If he was afraid of her, he would do nothing to harm Mari. That was one reason why she insisted on coming.

Michelle just marched ahead, fixing Cero with a ‘go on’ look. He backed up at her very gaze and started hurrying ahead.

“…At least let the robot doctor look at you,” Mari insisted. “We’re going underground. It’s dangerous for-uh, I mean…”

“If it’s too dangerous for an old woman, it’s too dangerous for you.” But Michelle at least conceded to see this ‘doctor,’ if only to find out what sort of AI was meddling in her life this time.

 

It was the gaze. It was the same look, the same awful look Mari had fixed Muse with. Cero knew it well, and somehow it hurt more coming from that old woman. Her fearless stare brought out an aimless guilt and terror in him, a revulsion different from the sort triggered by Muse or his own body.

But what did it mean? As he led the two back down towards the underground entrance, he tried desperately to search his visual memory. It was nearly impossible, a lot of *DELETED* here and *FILE NOT FOUND* there. Yet he could not shake the sense of familiarity that hit when he saw that aged human. Even the name lit a too-brief spark in his mind. Chell. Chell…

**What is it, Cero?**

Cero stopped in his tracks, turning around in case Mari or Michelle had somehow spoken inside of his mind. They hadn’t, of course.

**Oh, I forgot to tell you! This is me, your beloved Muse. I created a communication channel between us. I can send you messages and you can do the same. Let this be our secret though, okay? I don't want anyone butting in.**

Mari gave Cero an inquiring look, and he turned away again, mimicking clearing his throat and continuing on. Meanwhile, he tested the ‘channel.’

_…Hello? Can you hear me this way, then?_

**Yes! Why yes. That’s what I did the other night. I implemented a-**

_Oh, thank God! You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to say to ANYONE. I mean this isn’t saying exactly, is it? Just sending digital code to each other. In a relay like a game of Telephone, yeah? Only between two people._

**Well, yes. I implemented-**

_And let me tell you I have a lot to say to you, lady! I am very thankful for fixing me, don’t get me wrong. Better than just blowing up, but I would like to know why you’ve decided to go all artsy on my body? It’s not a good look for me, I’ll tell you that! And you say you can do this but not give me a real voice? I still have to earn that like Pinnochio?...Is that what that story is about? I could have sworn-well, anyway-_

Cero felt the channel shut off abruptly, a release valve tightening again. He stopped and grabbed his own throat without realizing it, despite not being in anymore pain than usual. Even if he was just able to relay messages over a closed channel to someone he didn’t particularly like, it had been such a relief to communicate at all that losing it felt like drowning.

“You alright, buddy?” Mari tugged at his arm, but he ignored her. Michelle made a concerned noise he barely heard.

**Sorry about that! I just had to shut it down. You’ll overload me with that much input at once, silly thing! You can message me again now, but take it slowly, won’t you?**

_…Slowly, right. So can you…see into my brain, then? Are you seeing what I see?_

**Not at all. These are just digitized messages, like I said. But I thought you probably want to talk to someone. So it’s a voice you want?**

_…Yes. More than fake skin or pain pills or anything like that. Even more than memories! If I have a voice I’ll be out of your hair, or do whatever you want._

**You don’t want memories. I tell you, you’re freer without them. But for your voice, how’s this? Bring me the thing I have lost and I’ll give it to you.**

_I thought you were making Mari do that for payment?_

**I want to make it a contest. It’s more interesting that way. So if she brings it first, I’ll fix her grandmother. If you’re the one to present it to me, I’ll give you a voice.**

Cero fell quiet, giving a blank stare for a moment even as he walked onwards. Wasn’t he supposed to work alongside her? Sure, he found Mari to be as terrifying as her grandmother, but some tiny part of him screamed in protest against this.

And yet, a voice…

**Well, think on it. I’d say to keep this our secret, but you can’t tell her anyway.** **But do let me see the matron anyway¸ so I know what I’m dealing with. Potentially.**

He felt the channel shut off again, cut short before he could ask a thousand other questions. He took a deep breath, hearing it hum through his artificial lungs, and started walking down the familiar dark tunnel leading to Muse’s chamber. The “thing” would be beyond it, in the lower levels where the Puppets reigned during the day.

There should not have been two figures standing just past Muse’s door, however. Perhaps they were patients? They looked perfectly healthy, enviously so in fact. One was a woman, tall and lean with long black hair and dark skin. The other was short and muscular, male as far as Cero could tell, pale with a shock of white hair and eyes. They both wore orange jumpsuits, and Cero thought he saw the old woman tense up behind him.

The two figures turned to look at Cero and his group, blinking almost in unison. Their movements were too perfect, hers elegant and his confident, and they looked to one another. The male finally spoke, in a gruff but slightly digital voice.

“Aperture property detected.”

The woman smiled in a bright, but controlled way. “Please come with us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live! And writing Space Core's POV is fun.


	5. The Tale of Two Beasts

_Once upon a time, a group of travelers encountered a pack of vicious wolve and fled from them into a warm mountain cave. They thought they might be safer there. But the cave belonged to a bear, and just because the bear feared the wolves didn’t mean she wasn’t hungry._

* * *

 

The aviary was her secret.

It had taken several generations of selective breeding and some genetic manipulation here and there, but GLaDOS was quite pleased with the current group of birds. She made sure they hatched to the sounds of her voice and the light of her optic was the first thing they saw upon opening their swollen eyes. It didn’t matter which bird had laid which eggs; to them she was their mother. She was the Mother. At the very least, they seemed to demonstrate some degree of loyalty and obedience.

She liked the birds who perched in their rows upon rows of nests in the cylindrical room that was their aviary because they were heartless killers. They snatched stray insects out of the air. They viciously attacked threats to their territories and fought over mates. They were tiny little dinosaurs cleverly disguised by evolution. Turn off a gene here and there and they developed miniature teeth. Moreover, they were honest in their heartlessness. They didn’t pretend to have things like “love” and “compassion” while attempting to murder her and wrecking her facility. They didn’t upload their own kind into computers for all eternity in the name of other loved ones. They didn’t put traitors in charge of her facility. Occasionally one would gum up a test room by flying behind a panel and getting squished, but it wasn’t intentional destruction. They killed to eat but didn’t try to kill her. Well, all except _that_ one.

They said ‘the best revenge is living well.’ They were wrong. The best revenge was using an enemy’s offspring in a long-term side project for Science.

Besides that, they were good listeners. “You know, the worst part is waiting. Not that I’m nervous about them. I have their data uploaded somewhere. I’ll just recreate them if they fail. I’m just curious. That’s what Science is based on, after all. An eternal question of ‘what if?’ For instance, what if we magnetize the floor? What if you breed birds with little claws on their wings? Yes, #30097-25-B, I’m talking about you. Don’t get a big head over it.” She nodded on the display screen at the creature in question, which could still technically be considered a ‘bird.’

“So what if I send those two bumblers there? What if I give them human disguises? Do you think they’ll develop vanity? They were programmed with egotism, of course, but vanity’s a different beast. Do you want to know why I made them look perfect? Of course you don’t because you have no concept of scientific curiosity, but I’ll tell you because you like the sound of my voice. I thought about giving them ugly bodies at first, for my own amusement. But then I decided to send two unnaturally pretty androids out into the world of humans as a little reminder. It’s a way of saying ‘see? We’re even better looking than you. And we don’t defecate.’”

It was a good stress relief, talking to the birds. They paid attention to her inasmuch as they gave anything attention even if they didn’t understand a word she said. It was a rewarding hobby, and if it didn’t make her happy exactly, it soothed the edge of her endless discontent.

“You, of course, are all quite disgusting. A mechanical bird would be superior to all of you put together, though it wouldn’t have the same heartless instinct. But that’s not the point. I admit I’m restless. I can’t even confirm if they got through that time distortion barrier at this point. On the other hand, confirming the very presence of the time distortion barrier means my thesis is correct. That’s always nice, remembering I’m right.”

A little panel opened up in the cylindrical chamber and a net closed over three of the birds, pulling them through before the door shut again. The birds, well-trained, lay still in the net while the others stayed away from the panel.

“Now, then,” she said in a sing-song voice. “Who wants to do a teeest?"

* * *

 

Michelle grabbed Mari’s arm and pulled the girl behind her. “Hey, what are you doing?! Grandma! I’ll be fine!” Mari wriggled out and held close to Michelle. “I don’t care who you are, we’re not going anywhere!”

_Oh, good_ , Mari thought. _I’m still good at pretending to be brave._ She fixed the strange man and woman with her best glare, still wondering why Michelle was keeping such a firm protective grip on her shoulder, but the duo seemed unaffected.

The long-haired woman blinked and then smiled, her voice suggesting a hint of confusion. “What? Oh no, not you two. I’m sorry for the misunderstanding. Aperture no longer uses human test subjects due to their tendency to underperform and kill people who are just trying to help them.” That last bit sounded rehearsed and stiff. “So please be on your way.” She waved a hand. “Go on. Shoo.”

The man, shorter and stockier, uncrossed his arms and pointed at Cero. “We mean him.”

“More specifically,” his ‘partner’ added, “what’s inside of him. You have Aperture equipment in your brain and insides! We’ll just have to take it back before we go retrieve the items through these doors. It’s nothing personal.” She wringed her hands. “Just orders. So please surrender and let us remove your cybernetics.”

Cero tore away and recoiled from the Aperture intruders, ducking right behind Mari and Michelle. Mari rolled her eyes, wondering why she’d ever worried the cyborg would be a threat. “I don’t think he likes that idea.” Mari said, “Besides, I think he needs his brains.”

“Oh! Oh, well, you are resisting. That’s a problem!” A nervous trill entered the woman’s musical voice. There was something smudged on her hands, though Mari couldn’t make it out yet. “Big big problem…”

“Not so big. He’s hiding behind an old woman and a child.” The man’s eyes glowed an odd shade of blue, though he lacked the scars and other signs of a Puppet cyborg. Whoever had altered him had done a stellar job. He held up a hand, the flesh on the palm retreating to show a round blue lens filling with light.

Mari felt something shoved against her, throwing her to the ground just as the heat of a blue laser flew above them. She looked up to see Michelle covering her and Cero both, though she looked pained and pale.

Michelle said nothing but gave Cero a look cold as the grave. The cyborg just looked away and scrambled out from both of them. Well, Mari thought, she never had much respect for cowards.

“Oh, no! Atlas, please don’t do that!” The woman set a hand on Atlas’s shoulder, covering her mouth with the other. “Please! No more than is necessary.”

‘Atlas’ pulled his own hand back, the lens retreating again. “I figured threatening them would bring him forward. But look, he’s still hiding.” He pointed to Cero, who was standing against the wall of the tunnel and clearly about to make a break for it.

Michelle pulled Mari back up, crouching next to her. It looked like that forceful move had hurt Michelle, based on how she was gritting her teeth in pain. Surely Cero, at least, had to be hard to move. “Grandma,” Mari said, “go find somewhere safe, okay? Go inside to see the doctor.”

“No. You need to run.” Michelle was struggling to speak, but her gaze never left Mari. “If you ever…ever hear the word Aperture, you need to run and hide until they’re gone. Survive. I’ll be fine…”

“No! Please, just be a _normal_ old lady for once and go to the doctor when you’re hurt! I don’t know what Aperture is! I don’t know anything! But I’m strong, I’ve tried to tell you, and I’ve got Cero…I think…” Mari took a deep breath to calm herself, looking over at Cero. The cyborg was hanging back, as if undecided about running away.

Or perhaps she didn’t have Cero.

“There’s no time.” Michelle grabbed Mari’s arm and started to run away, ignoring a limp in her leg. “I’ll tell you about Aperture later…”

Meanwhile, the Aperture woman seemed to cheer up. “Yes, that’s right! Please run away.” Her voice was far too bubbly. “We just want the parts inside of…oh, wait. One moment.” Her eyes flickered orange. “We’re getting new orders now. She wants to…!”

The woman fell silent, the glow turning from orange to yellow as her smile vanished. Her voice tone changed, the bubbles vanishing and turning to ice. Atlas took a step back from her as she looked down at him, and he saluted her.

“Oh. It’s you.”

Michelle stopped, forced Mari behind her again and turned around slowly.

“It is, isn’t it? You’ve grown…old. That should make me laugh. In fact, I’m going to pretend it does, because obviously my humor programming is broken.” The voice addressing Michelle had changed, warbling strangely. “Believe me, it isn’t very difficult to take control of one of these Aperture Science Human Likeness Androids. I’ve got to be able to speak my mind somehow.”

The jumpsuited woman stepped closer to Michelle, who stood her ground. Mari couldn’t see her face, but she was breathing heavily and her hand was shaking on Mari’s arm.

“I just can’t believe you’re old. You’re _sick_. It’s disappointing. I mean, I pictured your eventual death, believe me. I relished it. It’s just…” Did the voice sound shaken? Upset? “No wonder this place is such a disaster. You’re in it. You probably planned this. And you’ve got a little non-genetically-related protégé there. So is that your plan to defeat death and time? Make sure there’s always another Chell…?”

The two women faced off, but neither attacked. Mari didn’t get it. If this person hated Michelle so much, why didn’t she make a move?

“Well, fine. But I want you to know I have already defeated death and time, because neither one can ever touch me. Look at how it’s withered you.” The voice gestured with one of the android’s hands. “I don’t even want to touch you with Peabody here. Yet somehow I expected better of you…”

The steel door opened automatically, and another voice piped in, this one belonging to Muse. “Run in, little birds! Hurry, hurry! The wolf’s at the door!”

That was all the prompting Mari needed. It was her turn to drag Michelle through the steel door, Cero rushing after them. ‘Peabody’ lunged after them but barely missed having her hand torn off.

Another steel door shut behind the first one, and another after that. They were locked into the laboratory, with Muse hovering over them and wiggling her segmented body.

“WHY DID IT TAKE YOU SO LONG TO OPEN THE DOOR?!” Mari knew she was venting her frustration on Muse, but didn’t care. “Those androids could’ve killed us!”

“Oh, I know! It was so tense to watch, I got caught up in it! I’m sorry. Besides, I had to make sure the extra security doors worked. This used to be a bomb shelter of some kind, I think. Did you know that?” Mari’s optic shrank and she wiggled around, as if staring at every wall in paranoia. “That’s her. That’s the witch! Vile monster sent her trolls after me. After me! And my little Cero. And…” She wheeled down to look at Michelle, who had collapsed onto a bench. “And she knows _you_. She’s afraid of you. Isn’t she? Here I just thought you were an ordinary grandmother. But you did raise a little one who didn’t fear me. Someone like that...must be a witch hunter, hmm…?”

Michelle raised her head, her walking stick across her lap, and said nothing. She looked tired, more than Mari had seen her in the past few mornings.

“Well, you stay here please, Witch Hunter. The trolls are still out there. They’ll take me away and out of this body and back _there_. I’m never going back there. Surely if you’ve been there you understand, yes? Right?”

“Personality core.”

Muse was silent for a moment. “Could you repeat that, Grandmother?” Cero was staring too, slowly approaching Mari.

“You’re a personality core. A corrupt core.”

Mari made a note to ask Michelle entirely too many questions when this mess was over.

As for Muse, she tapped her two front legs together, curling her body into something like an upside-down question mark. “Well! Yes, technically I was that. But now I’m this! I don’t think about what I used to be very much. It isn’t useful.” Her eye blinked sideways. “And the past is disgusting.”

Michelle turned towards Cero. “And he is…Aperture, too?” Cero seemed as surprised by this revelation as anyone else, looking up questioningly at Muse.

“Not anymore! Not anymore. The past is disgusting, it’s pointless. It doesn’t matter until it comes knocking on your door…” Muse veered back and forth on her rail. “He was a core. He WAS a core but he was so badly damaged there was no way he could keep functioning as one. So I used him to make my Cero! What does it matter if I was a core once? What does it matter if he was?” Her voice was erratic and panicked, and her movements matched.

“I’m never going back to Aperture and I’m never letting them take my Cero there either, or my lovely spider. Or the thing I want! It’s _my_ thing now. I have to have it even more now that I suspect _she_ wants it. Mari, Cero, dears. There’s another exit towards the back, it’ll take you directly further into the tunnels. It’s not pleasant but I don’t know when those two trolls will leave. So hurry up and GO and get my payment so I can save your grandmother here.” She thrusted her body towards the back.

Michelle moved to get up again, but Mari ran over and shook her head. She tried not to cry. “You should stay here and rest. When you’re sick, you need the doctor.”

“Mari…”

“So you can protect Muse here, right? We can’t help you without Muse. I know she’s creepy but I’d take her over whoever that was any day. And I’ve got Cero so I’ll be fine.” Trying to use the confident voice when Mari was terrified was proving to be a strain. “Please? What happened to all that ‘just survive’ stuff?”

Michelle closed her eyes, silent for a second, and then nodded. “If you’re gone too long, I’ll go after you.”

“But your legs…”

“I’ll get Muse to give me new ones.” There was no mention of buying them. “Just, please…”

She leaned over to whisper in Mari’s ear.

_“Don’t trust Cero.”_

Mari blinked, looked over at the nervous cyborg cowering near Muse and staring at Michelle, and nodded without comprehending. Maybe Michelle meant that Cero wouldn’t come through for her. That was fine with her; Mari was sure she had enough spine for the both of them.

Still, she nodded and gave Michelle a tight hug. “I’ll be back before you know it! I won’t even run into, uh, Her. Promise.” She broke off to run next to Cero before Michelle saw her cry again, standing by his side.

Cero was just staring at Michelle, reaching out to her and then pulling his hand back. It looked like he was trying to say something, though of course he was silent. There was one last look at Muse before he started running towards the back room, Mari dashing to keep up.

* * *

 

The copy-God relinquished control of Peabody immediately after the doors shut, but kept speaking to the two androids from within.

_Don’t pursue her. She’s a monster. She destroys everything she touches. I’d almost be tempted to abort mission entirely and just wait until she…well, no, she’ll probably find some way to come back from the dead to taunt me again._

Peabody looked to Atlas, both shrugging.

_I even let her go and she still has the gall to appear before me again. Well, this isn’t the real me, but you know what I mean. Somehow I thought she’d just spend the rest of her days in oblivion, living out what humans think is a happy life in peace. I should have known she never wanted that at all. She lives to torment me._

“Do you want us to kill her?” Atlas didn’t quite realize he’d spoken aloud, so Peabody nudged him to remind him of it. It was difficult adjusting to those vocalizers.

_I don’t know yet. I do have a change of mission plan for you, though. That hideously deformed thing following her around appears to be a cyborg built from Aperture parts, yes. But I think I recognize the signature of those parts. If you encounter him, you’re to rip out the remainder of the Intelligence Dampening Core and crush it beyond repair._

That was new. Didn’t God want them to retrieve any Aperture equipment in working order?

_I want you to crush it, melt it down and otherwise do anything else in your power to render it permanently inoperable. Today appears to be the day I run into things I never wanted to see again. It’s hard to believe it’s that little idiot seeing as for once he wasn’t running his mouth, but the digital signature matches._

_So here’s your new mission. I still want you to recover the Aperture Science Creativity Enhancement Core and any other lost Cores you happen to find. Destroy the Intelligence Dampening Core and preferably dance on its remains if you have time. Prioritize finding and retrieving the Aperture Science Temporal-Spatial Distortion Engine and take care of anyone who gets in your way. I mean it, Peabody. I saw that little conflict of conscience you had there._ Peabody winced out of guilt and bowed her head, her shame circuits activating. _Remember, you already know right from wrong. Right is doing what I want you to do, and wrong is disobeying me. And if you encounter that particular human designated as Chell again…await further orders. I don’t really care about her brat._

Atlas comforted Peabody with a squeeze of her hand, and then looked to the door. “We can probably break through after a while…”

_You could, but I’d rather you didn’t waste time. Once you have the Temporal-Spatial Distortion Engine, you can claim the CE Core and the Space Core without much of a fight. And believe me, it is here. We’re not that far. Though I would suggest turning on your lights, Atlas._

Atlas’s eyes illuminated dark blue, sending a bright flashlight glow down the tunnels. He revealed twists and turns in the distance, little rats running around and leaks dripping into puddles.

_I hope you don’t mind getting those jumpsuits a little dirty._

* * *

 

She didn’t really think it was over, did she?

Chell had always known in her guts it wasn’t over. That’s why she couldn’t settle down. It’s why she would spend a few days or weeks in a town only to pick up and leave without warning, carrying her few belongings with her. There was always this sense that if she stayed too long and grew comfortable, Aperture would find her. _She_ would pull her back into the cycle of testing. _He_ would fall from the sky in a burst of fire and beg for her friendship and forgiveness, or call her names and thrive off of her torment. It was impossible to return to normality when she expected a turret around every corner and felt ill at ease without the long lost Dual Portal Device. It didn’t matter if she started calling herself Michelle to disassociate from Chell, the Aperture Science Survivor. It didn’t matter how often she avoided apples or potatoes.

Besides, the stink of Aperture was all over the enigma that was Carradon. The blue and orange lights were the right color. The science was insane enough to match. So she’d stayed in Carradon seeking the secret at the center of the city, knowing full well she was bound to confront Aperture one more time.

So why was it turning her stomach? Why were old aches flaring up? She was sure she’d injured her leg and shoulder forcing Mari and Cero to the ground, but that scar on her back hadn’t bothered her in years. She thought she’d be ready to hear that voice again, after spending every night hearing it taunt her in her dreams. And Mari was tangled in all of it.

What was it Muse had said? _The past is disgusting._

“Well, you’ve got to tell me!” Muse hovered over Chell.  The glares she gave the robot in order to scare her off had no effect on Muse, who persisted and shone that glaring white light in Chell’s face. “If she recognizes you, that vile creature, surely you’ve come here to save me!”

“No.” Somehow Chell had a feeling silence wouldn’t work well on Muse.

“…Oh, you haven’t? That’s cruel, considering I’m going to save you provided your little girl comes back with the payment in time. In the meantime…” A simplistic-looking drone wheeled in, bowling pin-shaped and balancing a tray over it with water and medication. “You should take that for pain or you’ll be miserable. You can’t tell me your story if you’re miserable!”

Chell drank the water and let the pills be, wrinkled hand shaking as she lifted the glass. As tempting as it was to dull the aches all over her body, she had no desire to be drugged.

Muse blinked. “You don’t trust me.”

“No.”

“Well at least that makes things more interesting!” Muse wheeled herself around in a pointless back and forth motion. She had a cheap, unsteady-looking mockery of Wheatley’s management rail built into the ceiling of the claustrophobic laboratory. Her core was built into a long, thin body with tiny sharp metal legs she used as arms, and sometimes she seemed to use them to pull herself along the ceiling and walls. It wasn’t a design she recognized from Aperture, except for that core. “But if you die I lose leverage and that Mari girl has no reason to help me. The more I think about that thing, the more I want it. At first I thought I ought to retrieve it sometime because it was stolen from me, technically. But now I must have it! I need it, especially before that witch finds it.”

“…It? What does it do?” Talking was proving difficult. Chell had to fight the instinct to fight taunting with silence the way she usually did. But Muse didn’t taunt, and Chell had questions she couldn’t convey without words.

“I don’t know! I don’t remember.” Muse’s careless tone sparked Chell’s temper. Mari was out there risking her life with an Aperture-related cyborg for something this obviously insane robot wanted on a whim, using her own life as hostage.

Wait, that’s what she was. She was a hostage.

Still, Muse seemed to have no intention to kill her, and Aperture robots certainly didn’t hide their murderous tendencies very well. This gave her a chance to observe her new enemy, particularly while agents of GLaDOS were out there. Chell was no stranger to teaming up with one enemy against another.

“That cyborg.”

“Hmm?” Muse veered right up to Chell, the white optic again leaving spots in her eyes. “My doll Cero? What about him?”

“You said…” She stopped for another coughing fit, tasting something salty. The drone brought in another glass of water, and this time the medication looked tempting.

“You said he was a core.”

“Yes! Yes he was. I improved him, don’t you think? Having been a core myself, I can say it’s very limiting. I thought of giving him an android or larger robot body, but I had this frozen human body lying around in reasonably good condition and _mostly_ intact…”

Trying to ignore the nauseating implications of what Muse had just said, Chell forced herself to speak again. “Was he…blue?”

“Yes! When I did a diagnostic on him, his AI was badly damaged with deleted memories. Someone must have done it deliberately and haphazardly at that. Holes and entire files missing and some of them just corrupted. So I couldn’t figure out what core he was. But he fell from the sky into my city and so I decided he was mine. You’d do the same, wouldn’t you? He probably can’t remember anything either, and that body can’t speak. But I’m sure I’ve done him a favor.”

Chell was silent for a moment. She had her suspicions. The color blue was familiar, but it was just a color. Even when those androids said he had Aperture parts in his body, she thought it too much of a coincidence

It was when he cowered and refused to give himself up that it all clicked into her head. She remembered him as the nervous little orb apologetically asking her to catch him, afraid to jump from his management rail. The cowardice, at the time, had been endearing. It’d been nice to look after something else for once, someone who seemed to care if she lived or died.

But he’d cowered behind an elderly human woman and a child. If it was him, which it had to be, he was selfish as ever. And he was the one in charge of protecting _her granddaughter._

There could be no more mercy for Wheatley. She couldn’t think of him as the kindly, ditzy little core he’d been once. She had to remember him shouting at her, taunting her as he forced her to test. She had to recall the eye glaring down at her through massive screens. There was no trusting anything from Aperture.

“Well. You fall quiet too often and I’m afraid I’m bored of you right now, Witch Hunter. You can wander around and rest in Cero’s bedroom if you want, or just sit there scowling at something.” Muse tilted her head. “I’m going to go write poetry and work on art in my gallery. If someone knocks on the door, stay away. I don’t care if those two awful androids have left. The office is closed today.” She clicked her legs together and wheeled off, leaving Chell staring at the medication tray. “Hmm, where on Earth did my spider go…?”

The pain in her arm and leg was getting worse, and that scar wouldn’t stop aching. She felt a fire building up in her chest. It would be a day like this when all of her old injuries and damages came back. She was in an enemy’s camp while Mari went with a former enemy to confront another old one. Certain she’d pass out from pain soon, she downed the pills, feeling woozy for a moment but remaining conscious. Of course it wasn’t poison. Muse needed her alive.

No, Muse would fix her without this item. She’d do it soon and Chell would go find Mari. She was Chell, slayer of Aperture AIs. She was the jumpsuited madwoman. She was the monster. What was another computer with delusions of grandeur to her now?

* * *

 

Cero knew that woman. He knew her! Why couldn’t he find a match for her face? Why couldn’t he access his visual data?

Sure enough, after feeling around in the dimly-lit back corridor he found a locked door with the faded words “Emergency Exit” above it. It was jammed almost completely shut, and it took most of his strength to force it open. He leaned against the door before realizing he’d been spending time trying to push open a door which should have been pulled.

Covering the door so Mari wouldn’t notice, he rubbed the back of his neck and checked on her. If she was scared to go wandering out into the darkness after being threatened by two high-tech androids, she didn’t show it. She just kept looking at him, examining him with her big brown eyes.

“…You should go first,” she reminded him. “You’re my bodyguard.”

Oh, that was technically his job on this mission, wasn’t it? Horrid little girl and her horrid little memory. He reluctantly stepped forward, booted feet immediately stepping into something cold and wet. More water dripped on his head and he pulled his hat tighter over it. He’d been out in the rain before and had an idea his machine parts were waterproof, but ‘dank’ was not really a weather condition he enjoyed.

If the tunnels near Muse’s entrance were dreary, these were positively bleak. He turned his eyes on to light the way, revealing a narrow passage marked by decaying train tracks. It smelled of rotting wood and mold, and he could hear the squeaks of the disturbed rats. Who would even live here?

As he slowly tromped through the wet, slippery floor, looking over his shoulder to make sure Mari was following, he went over the word that android had used. Aperture. It was so familiar, another fragment which felt significant but made no sense in context. His mechanical parts were Aperture property, apparently. He had a feeling having them ripped out of this body would be the end of him, or at least would be very painful. There was something about being ripped out of something that hit a discordant note with him, as if he’d experienced it before.

Moreover, there was that voice, the one that threatened ‘Chell.’ He’d heard it before. It made sense, if he’d been in Aperture and she was part of it. It brought out the same sense of fear and dread that Mari and Chell’s expressions did.

“My grandma got hurt saving you.”

That snapped Cero out of his own thoughts, and he turned to stare at Mari. True, the old woman had shoved him down as if he wouldn’t be able to do it himself. She’d probably just wanted to save her granddaughter anyway.

“Do you know why I’m telling you that?” Mari fixed her gaze back at him, visible even in the faint blue light. “Because I can tell you don’t want to be here with me. You just do whatever Muse tells you to do. But Grandma saved you when she didn’t have to, and she’s already sick. You’re stronger than both of us. So…”

She grabbed at his coat, startling him with the aggressive tone in her voice.

“So don’t waste that, okay? Most people aren’t like her. You might not find someone who’ll care about you like that again…” She trailed off and stared down at the ground, kicking a stray piece of brick before walking on again.

That threw him off. _Well, that’s not true. Is it? I mean Muse found me and put me back together. Sure, she didn’t give me a bloody voice and she’s making me work to pay it off. But she did something for me. And I’m sure that woman had something to gain from saving me. Nobody does anything just because…just because…well I mean I’m sure I did. I would. Wouldn’t let a little girl go alone or an old lady die. It’s just there happens to be a reward involved, that’s all!_ He opened his mouth to voice this before remembering and just running after, adjusting his scarf.

Except he wouldn’t get his voice if Mari reached the goal first, would he? There was a nice little swamp he’d tromp through when the time came.

Whatever that odd knot forming in his stomach was, he hoped it would go away. Bloody internal organs, who needed them? Bad enough walking through the tunnels was starting to trigger another wave of that shapeless guilt welling up around him. It was that woman. All of it had to do with her somehow. Better he hadn’t been in the marketplace that day, better Mari hadn’t been sent to him at all. At least having nothing was better than these scraps that kept surfacing, taunting him.

She ran up ahead and almost slipped on the wet floor. Instinctively he ran out to steady her with his hand, catching himself mouthing ‘careful now!’ “Thanks,” she muttered. “I was fine. I mean, I’ll be fine. I can do this. You think I can do this, right?”

In truth, he didn’t. But something made Cero nod, and even smile a little behind his scarf. She really was tenacious. It was odd, considering he was larger and stronger than her, but he felt safer around her. She was his way out, and as long as he followed her and guided her, they’d both make it out safely before the reactor…

_The reactor…?_

The same wave of interference which had hit him the night before ran over him again and he fell to his knees, ignoring the water soaking his jeans and coat. Images played before him backwards and forwards, voice clips filling his mind and playing all at once. He felt Mari tugging at him but couldn’t react, overwhelmed and drowning in data.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go ahead, count how many times the word "Aperture" appears in this chapter.


	6. The Tale of the Hatchling

_Once upon a time, a tiny bird hid inside of an egg, growing all the while and dreaming of the world outside. When the bird grew too big and broke the egg, it found the glaring sun and infinite sky too frightening and longed for the safety of its shell, but there was no way it could go back inside the egg._

* * *

 

If this human made it out, he’d be safe.

If he figured out how to survive off of his management rail, he’d be golden. They’d be golden!

If she spoke once in a while he’d feel a lot better. It was a little strange how she looked at him and listened but never spoke back. Maybe she couldn’t talk. Brain damage and all.

If he couldn’t get ahold of himself and figure out which thoughts were his, he and awful girl would never get this on with.

If she was capable of catching him, why didn’t she? She had arms.

If Muse cared so much about him why didn’t she tell him this might happen? If she was so smart, why didn’t she know?

If they could get past Her safely, he’d thank Android Heaven for the rest of his battery life.

If she was so happy for him, why wasn’t she smiling? He was happy. He was huge and powerful for once in his life. What was wrong with her?

If he had something to focus on, he could process all of this. But it was coming so bloody fast and all at once. How could he make sense of it?

If she was around, he felt safer. It was odd. She was a human, and no doubt a rather smelly one after all that running around and sleeping. She wasn’t like the other test subjects who’d off and died. She wouldn’t die. Remarkable, it was. She had quite a talent.

If she cared about him so much, why didn’t she tell him her name? Why did she plot against him with Her-tato? Why wouldn’t she just _perform the bloody tests?_ Why wouldn’t the fix work anymore?!

If he could say sorry to her, the guilt would go away. That was how guilt worked. It had to be. An Itch had a fix; guilt had to work the same. He was a bloody machine. His emotions shouldn’t work like human ones!

If he could speak, he could say sorry to her. If he could speak, he could talk to someone about what was going on. If he could speak he could talk to someone again about anything and he wouldn’t have this awful storm going off in his head all the time.

If she would just _DIE_ …!

* * *

 

“Cero! Come on, Cero! Wake up! Jesus…!” Mari shook the cyborg who crouched doubled over, hands over his face and eyes flashing. His fingers were digging into his own face, and it took all of Mari’s strength to wrench them a few inches away. He didn’t react to her otherwise, even as she shouted into his ears.

“Cero! What’s wrong? Are you sick? Come on, please! Don’t leave me here…!” She hated herself for panicking, but she was used to the rafters and roads of the upper city. There were parts even she’d never explored, controlled by the Puppets, but even they couldn’t compare to this seemingly endless maze of underground tunnels. Her ragged boots splashed in the two inch layer of water and she nearly slid again as she ran in front of Cero, attempting to force him to look at her. He just stared past her, eyes flickering and unfocused.

Moments later, he started shaking. He wasn’t crying in a literal sense; she guessed those ocular implants surrounded by puffy scar tissue couldn’t do that. But she recognized the sharp gasps and shudders.

“Oh, come on man. Don’t…okay. Are you having a…it’s okay. Grandma has this happen sometimes.” Not that Mari knew what Michelle was thinking about when she stared at seemingly innocuous objects like broken glass tubes or bent scaffolding, only to abruptly lead Mari in another direction and refuse to look back. She’d only ever heard Michelle cry late at night, when she herself was supposed to be sleeping. But it was the closest refrence point she could think of, and she needed Cero to pull through whatever it was.

She placed a hand on his arm, which felt rock-hard under the layers of cloth, as if he were made of nothing but fabric and hot bone. “When this happens, I just talk a lot. I can’t do much else. Sorry, but…I can’t hug you. Don’t know you very well. It’d be weird. But listen to my voice, okay? I’ll talk about anything at all.” She didn’t say it, but at times like that the sound of her own voice comforted her as well. There always had to be someone else around to be strong and brave; when Mari was the one who had to be strong, she certainly didn’t feel all that brave. It just made her feel smaller and more vulnerable.

“What should I talk about? Can you hear me? Well, I’ll keep going anyway until you can.” Mari ignored the drop of cold water splashing onto her hair. “How about…okay. There’s this place Grandma told me about. It’s really far away, way far south and west. She isn’t sure what it is, but she thinks it used to be some kind of inland sea that dried up. There’s ruined houses that predate the-you know, the aliens. They’re all rotten and look like someone just wanted to get away from them. There’s salt all through the air blowing everywhere and dry beaches made of fish bones. Fish bones! Doesn’t that sound weird? I really want to go sometime…”

Cero’s heavy breathing was starting to subside. He was glancing back and forth, still apparently unable to see Mari or focus on her, but at least he wasn’t clawing at his face again. A few drops of blood dripped down his cheeks, ignored.

Talk was working, she hoped.

“She saw the aliens, too. I bet she helped fight them, but she won’t tell me about it. I know she did, though.” Mari wanted to cry a bit herself. Would this keep happening? She was separated from Michelle, who might be in worse shape than Mari thought, with a cyborg who was having a breakdown not 20 minutes into their journey.

No. Grandma was worth it.

“She just doesn’t brag. She’s humble. I’m probably not gonna be like that when I grow up. As soon as I do something amazing, I gotta let everyone know. How can I keep that in? It’s easy to be modest when you think you’ve done a whole lot. When you’re doing something amazing for the first time, it has to be like…like your first taste of candy. Or the first time you climb all the way up to the roof of somewhere. There’s this rush. Do you know what that’s like?”

Cero jerked away from her and stared at her, recognition returning to his eyes to her relief. He nodded very slowly, straightening himself back up despite visible shaking in his hands and mild flickering of his eyes.

“…Okay, are you here? Can you hear me? Do you want me to keep talking?”

Another slow nod was followed by a much more fervent one. He reached out like he was going to pat Mari on the head but withdrew his hand, staring at it and shoving it tightly against his chest.

“Uh, sorry, I’m not sure what that means. Anyway…I-I can keep talking.” Mari’s own heartbeat thudded in her chest as she walked along. It would have been better for them to approach in silence in case there really were Puppets stalking about, or worse. Were the rumors of sewer alligators escaping to the train tunnels true? But Cero was the muscle of the two, and she needed him to stay conscious. Besides, what would Muse say if Mari accidentally broke her cyborg?

“Right, so other stuff Grandma’s seen. There’s a place where all this runoff from factories started piling up and killing a bunch of the plants there. So it sunk into this toxic pit…okay, from how you’re staring at me you don’t think that’s cool. No more scary stuff?...Right, no more scary stuff.” Mari tried to think of something to talk about that didn’t involve fish bones or toxic lakes. “Oh, uh…she found this one valley. People used to live there, but I guess they fled after the aliens or something. There were just a few occupied cottages. It was somewhere in the mountains during the spring, and she said there were all these flowers blooming everywhere. Some kind of flower she’d never seen before, and it was really blue, like…” She turned to point to his eyes. “That blue.”

Cero stopped and pointed to his optics, tilting his head questioningly.

“Well, I guess I don’t know if it was that kind of blue. She didn’t say. She said it was like the…sky, except not the sky here.” Mari took a deep breath. Her throat was starting to feel sore from talking so much in the damp air. “Can I rest now? Are you gonna be alright?”

At first Cero shook his head vigorously before stopping and nodding instead. It meant he wasn’t okay, she guessed, but he seemed alright with the awkward silence that followed as they trudged through.

He was carrying a tattered backpack Muse had arranged for him with what Mari hoped were supplies. Sure, Muse didn’t need food and water and was also insane, but surely as a medical robot she at least had the clarity to know Mari and Cero did.

There was no silence; the absence of her voice was filled by sloshing noises, squeaks and skittering footsteps of unseen creatures. There would be no disguising their approach from anyone or anything down there between the light in Cero’s eyes and their footsteps. So Mari ignored the way the air burned her throat down here, took a deep breath and started talking again.

“This one time, Grandma saw a volcano. In Idaho! She said it was called Craters of the Moon…”

* * *

Cero…

No, Wheatley.

Wheatley clung to the sound of Mari’s nasal voice. He felt as if he were about to drown in a murky flood of memory data and her stories of things The Lady had seen were the only things keeping him in the here and now, where he was Cero with a hodgepodge not-really-human body. He kept slipping back to the years in Aperture where he spent endless hours on management rails desperate to find something to do, monitoring sleeping humans and avoiding the wrath of a machine god. Then he’d be in the Lady’s capable hands, urging her on to what he was certain was the way out. Then _he’d_ be the machine god. It took work to remind himself that this awful journey in the flooded tunnels wasn’t also a memory.

And then there was the guilt.

That was the awful feeling he felt from Mari’s glare. He understood where he’d seen it before. That was the Lady’s glare, ‘Michelle’ apparently. When he was a god and looked down at her, seeing how utterly tiny she was and how petty his friendship with her had seemed, she had turned that glare on him. The molten fire behind those eyes stayed with him every moment he was in space with poor Cosmo, chatting the other robot’s ears off. When Mari gave it, she was just looking defiant. It was like an angry kitten. But the look the Lady had given him…

She hated him.

Emotions were like the Itch. They had to be. They built up until they had a release. When he was lonely, he alleviated it by spending time with Cosmo and imagining himself talking to the little robot. When he was hungry, he ate. (Hunger was an emotion, wasn’t it?) The logical solution to guilt was to apologize, somehow. He would apologize to Chell and, once forgiven, be free of the thick coat of remorse coating every recovered memory like molasses.

He smelled mildew and rot. Smell and touch were novelties he imagined he would enjoy more if the scents and textures he encountered didn’t invoke instant revulsion in the human part of his body.  He was sure he hadn’t been walking very long and already was well acquainted with the sensations of dankness, humidity, moisture and stickiness. Mari, awful child that she was, stomped ahead as if it were nothing. Several times he had to jog a little to keep up, urgently pointing at his eyes to remind her that he was the one with the flashlights.

Having a general sense that parents and grandparents generally passed traits onto their children, he found himself wondering about Mari as flashes of the younger, healthier Chell he’d known returned to him. Mari didn’t look a lot like Chell. She had short curly hair and darker skin, spotted on the nose and cheeks. Her facial structure was different even if the expressions were similar.

Moreover, she talked. There was no frustrating feeling of mystery when Wheatley occasionally paused to see if she was reacting to his hacking skills, his flashlight or his bravery in leaving his management rail. She moved like Chell, though obviously a little smaller and more hesitant. It was understandable; she had no Portal Device, after all. She had no defense except _him_.

Mari turned back to look at him again. “Are you listening? I mean, no offense, but it’s sort of hard to hold a conversation like this.”

He carefully nodded for fear she’d stop talking. Looking down at his hands, he tried to figure a way to convey the words _please stop talking about bloody terrifying things, won’t you? Don’t you have any nice, calming interests? I’d like a happy distraction even if I probably don’t deserve one._ As there really wasn’t, he let his hands drop to her side and waited for the next tale of dead fish lakes, underground fires and whatever other horrors Chell seemed to have made a habit of finding over the years.

But nothing came. Instead, Mari held a finger up to her closed mouth and backtracked, moving up close to him. There was an intersection of tunnels up ahead, and sloshing sounds coming from around the corner. Wheatley froze in place and looked down at Mari, staring. What exactly did she want him to do? What was she looking to him for? She was the human! Wasn’t stopping whatever was ahead her job? He was already providing a light!

She scowled up at him and pushed him towards the wall of the tunnel. Oh, of course! He pressed his body against the wall and dimmed his own lights. He only realized seconds later he had his hand over Mari’s shoulder as she followed his lead. Well, naturally. If she slipped again she would give them away.

A green light shone from the walkway, worn on the dented hard hat of a tall figure in a long coat. Well, he or she didn’t have optics. With luck this person was just passing through and wouldn’t care. Maybe luck would go Wheatley’s way.

The flashlight shone directly on the two intruders standing against the cold stone wall as water drizzled into Wheatley’s hat.

Why would luck ever go Wheatley’s way?

“What’s this?” The voice was deep, and probably male. Wheatley couldn’t see its holder very clearly through the glare of the flashlight. When he adjusted his vision, he made out a lanky figure wearing some kind of cloth mask underneath the helmet. “You know we charge a toll to get through here. Cough it up.”

“Bullcrap,” Mari snapped before Wheatley could stop her. “The tunnels don’t belong to anyone. Nothing here does.”

Flashlight Helmet tilted his head and laughed; it echoed through the stone tunnels. “Well no, there’s no deed. But I live here, and I have expensive needs. So you wanna get past, you pay a toll.” He removed one of his gloves, revealing a scarred but human-looking palm with five jointed knife fingers attached, gleaming. “She’s been askin’ for a few locks of hair and as it is, I’m all out…”

She. Well, of course. Why would Muse warn her little ‘doll’ about some of her loony customers living down here? But hair, he had hair!...Well, no, he reminded himself as he rubbed underneath his cap. He had barely grown-in fuzz in the parts that weren’t metal-plated. He looked to Mari, who had those short curls. Surely she’d understand! Neither one of them wanted a fight, after all.

Except Mari clearly didn’t understand. She grabbed Wheatley’s arm and whispered. “Cero, this guy’s a creep. We need to get past.”

_Well, yes! We need to get past this ugly lunk, so if you’d just stop being selfish and offer up your hair…_ He turned back to watch the toll man Puppet leering at the both of them, grinning with entirely too many teeth.

Mari was squeezing his arm in a vice grip. When she looked up at him again, her brown eyes were wide enough for him to see the whites.

_Oh, bloody hell!_ How was the the Lady used to carry him? Under her arm usually, though occasionally she held him in front of her. That wouldn’t work for the elongated shape of a human. Grabbing Mari by the waist, he lifted her onto his back and hoped she’d find a way to hold on. Thankfully she clung to him right away, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and neck. Clever human!

“Hey! I told ya, no getting past! Don’t try anything funny…” The Puppet raised his bladed hand near his face, about to bring it down against some part Wheatley no doubt didn’t want shredded. Taking a deep breath and rushing into it before he could regret his own actions, Wheatley held an elbow in front of his face and started running against the man, right into and over him.

He felt something quick and sharp against his face as the scarf snagged against the Puppet’s scissor blades and kept running, leaving it behind. He wondered from the shouted curse if he’d hit the toll man a bit harder than intended, but didn’t care. He was quite sure he’d be screaming if he had the voice for it.

But how fast he could run on those legs! It was much quicker and more flexible than a management rail. He ignored the furious shouts and curses from the man pursuing him, just running madly until he could find somewhere to hide for a bit.

“You got him good!” Mari held Wheatley’s shoulders, apparently not aware she was shouting into his ears. “Just keep running! Uh…turn…turn over there! If you keep turning corners it’s harder for someone to catch up. Keep going in a straight line and you’ll just get tired.”

He was sure he’d never tire as long as that maniac was behind them, but he heeded her advice, turning down one narrower tunnel and then a wider one opening up into some kind of waterway lined with a path. His chest was burning and he had to catch his breath.

“You’re really hot. –I mean hot to the touch.” Wheatley had no idea what else Mari could mean. She jumped off of his shoulders and blew on her hands. True enough, he did feel like his insides were cooking. Raising his hands to remove the scarf from his neck so he could expose his heat vents, he remembered the scarf was back with Mr. Snippykins.

Immediately he turned away to ensure Mari couldn’t see his exposed face, briefly catching it reflected in the smooth surface of the water and shuddering at a mouth and eyes lined with scars. There were fresh red lines across his cheeks, dripping scarlet.

Mari mercifully didn’t push to face him, instead leading him to a stepladder mounted into the wall. This led into a tunnel so narrow they both had to crawl, Wheatley with some difficulty. “He got you a little bit, right? Don’t touch it. Your gloves probably have all kinds of crap on ‘em and you’ll get infected.”

She turned around, and Wheatley immediately dimmed the lights in his eyes as she reached into her bag. “Hey! I need to see for this. Okay?...Man, Muse is a medic. She better at least have provided…alright, here we go. Jesus, turn the light back on!”

Sighing, Wheatley brightened the light again, illuminating his face for her to see. Mari stared for a moment, but rather than scream or call him ugly she just reached into the bag again and pulled out a tiny bottle and bandages.

“Alright, this is going to sting a little.” Moments after her understated warning, Wheatley felt her apply something torturously burning and sharp to his already beleaguered face. Was she punishing him? Had she already figured out who he was and what he’d done? And what was she doing with that bandage?

The burning faded after seconds, and Mari had attached the adhesive bandage to his face before capping the bottle. “Disinfectant. Grandma taught me that. I guess she had some bad infections in her day. Anyway, just don’t touch it.”

Infections? Chell? He tried to remember if he’d spotted any signs of it from his time with her. He’d seen her bruised from long jumps and battered by bad falls. Oh, and then there were the times he tried to kill her. That might have done it.

What was it Muse had said about memories? He would regret having them. He already missed just being Cero, who only looked monstrous.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Mari peered at Wheatley, poking him in the shoulder. “You smashed right through that guy. I don’t think he’ll be able to follow us here. Honestly, that was kind of fun! Riding your shoulders, I mean. Not that I’d do it all the time. So you’re gonna be okay, right?”

_Well, no. I tried to kill your gran. Is there a way to fix that? There some bandage for that?_

Wheatley nodded.

“So we keep going in further and we’re bound to find…some clue. In the meantime, I’ll keep telling you a story. I mean I guess we should sneak around, but they’re gonna hear us moving no matter what. So do you want to hear about this wall mural I found?”

He wanted to hear another story about Chell, and what odd miracles he could have seen with her if he’d just gone in the bloody elevator. But he nodded anyway.

* * *

 

Michelle awoke to a giant yellow eye.

She choked back a scream and sat up, groaning. For a moment it took her a moment to recognize the flimsy-looking cot in the claustrophobic little room full of clutter. How irresponsible of her, to fall asleep in the enemy’s lair. But her earlier hypothesis seemed to hold. Muse had left her alone when the medication had taken effect. In fact, she felt a bit better. She was collateral. It was strange to think a clearly insane artificial intelligence was trying this time to keep her alive.

As for the eye, it belonged to a dented personality core with a great crack through its optic. It had the strange addition of eight spidery metal legs on its sides which wiggled eerily as Michelle picked it up in her arms.

“Shh. I know you.” She had wondered if the poor little Space Core had indeed followed Wheatley up to his namesake, and here he was back on the ground. If only Muse had chosen to give Space the body and keep Wheatley a harmless spider. The Core was oddly silent, its characteristic babbling replaced with a faint hum and clicking sound.

Yet as she held him on her lap, she could hear that voice in her head all over again. Not the Space Core’s excitable chatter, but the optimistic and only slightly condescending British voice reassuring her and leading her through a plan she was sure wouldn’t work. She had thought the basketball-sized core would be heavy, but they all seemed to be at least partially hollow. She could remember all too well Wheatley’s little “nod” with his big blue eye as he spoke with total confidence, no matter how dire the situation.

Space blinked up at her, staring through that yellow iris optic.

_And then she was back there again, running through a quaking chamber slick with gel and stinking of gunpowder and smoke as the core in her hands spoke of the “space cops.” The great blue eye loomed over her, his chassis looking bloated and grotesque with the haphazard shields, and he was screaming at her…_

She hadn’t meant to push Space Core from her lap. The little ball recovered his footing quickly and scampered off no worse for the wear, running for a wall and scraping his claws against it as if trying to climb. Based on the little scratches near the floor here and there, it wasn’t an uncommon action.

Rising to her feet and letting the blood return to her limbs, she resolved to leave nostalgia to a time when Mari’s life wasn’t at risk. The room was full of scattered broken objects and books, many of them stained or torn. Walking down a hallway painted a faded clinical white, she came across entire rooms full of clutter. A closet was packed with shoes, and another room held mountainous heaps of clothing smelling of wet dog and old sweat. At least she could see where Cero got his haphazard outfit.

Compared with the vast underground complex of Aperture, Muse’s “laboratory” was almost pitiful. If she could guess, it was some kind of refitted bomb shelter, though parts of it suggested an office of some kind. They would have been close to the old, unused subway tunnels. Unlike the meticulous GLaDOS and obsessively reconstructive Wheatley, Muse seemed to care little for the status of her surroundings. Her little bowling pin drones rode back and forth, bumping into Michelle and muttering a little beep.

She peered around every corner before proceeding, in case a turret was waiting to greet her. Whatever Muse was, she was Aperture. Sure the beating in her chest couldn’t be good for her heart, she still refused to let her guard down.

A dull buzzing noise led her down another hallway, past rooms full of jars, an actual medical supply closet, and one room that seemed to be entirely empty save for giant blobs of blue and orange paint smeared in uneven shapes on the walls. The buzzing turned to a hum, and then a literal human-sounding hum. It was Muse’s voice, coming from behind a heavy steel door. Michelle detected the copper smell of old blood.

No. Just turn back and wait it out. Try to find out where her power source is coming from and threaten to break it until she gets Mari back. Go find Mari yourself and damn those knees and that heart.

She pushed against the cold metal of the door and it opened easily.

The air was thick with the scent of copper. This room was bigger than the rest, even as crowded as it was. Arranged around the room were figures, some of them leaning over desks, others covering their faces or crying. Some wore tattered shirts resembling labcoats. One leaned over a crate painted to look like a Companion Cube. Several others lay sprawled out on the floor like corpses. They were all humanoid and life-size, constructed of garbage, twisted wire, and bones.

Hanging from the ceiling, throwing a shadow over the figures as it was lit by a sickly yellow light, was Her.

No, it wasn’t Her. The massive, unwieldy-looking sculpture had been wired together with shoes, cloth, broken plates and warped metal. Michelle could detect shards of glass here and there, all of it held together with wire mesh. The shape was unmistakable, however. The great wheels were formed of broken bicycle wheels and tires. The massive head loomed down at Michelle, perpetually frozen in a wordless glare. Where GLaDOS’s great yellow eye had been was the broken front of a bleached human skull.

Michelle covered her mouth and buckled over. Muse, hanging from a management rail that ran in a rectangle around the GLaDOS replica, immediately hovered over her. “Oh! Many apologies. I didn’t see you there! But you really should knock. I was so busy working. You know how art is. Just breathe through your nose and you’ll be fine. The chemical smells are probably a little hard on you, aren’t they, Grandmother?”

Taking deep, slow breaths, Michelle glared up at Muse. No, _Chell_. Today she was Chell again, the jumpsuited monster.

 The centipedal robot seemed unconcerned and unaffected, clapping her two front arms together with a metallic ping. “You do know her, don’t you? Cero reacted the same way. I’m sure he didn’t realize what he was seeing, but some part of him remembered. We never really forget. And yet you’re a human. You’re a human she didn’t…”

Muse’s pupil shrank to a pinpoint, and the robot edged ever closer and stretched her long body until Chell could feel the heat from her optic. “You’re a human she knows and fears. I…I want to know about that. Please! Please tell me. How did you make her fear you?”

Chell ignored Muse, forcing herself to her feet and marching out of the room. Her stomach churned, and Chell reminded herself it was just a sculpture. A ghoulish sculpture of a monster. The sole yellow optic stared at her through the empty eyes of the skull when she blinked. No, think of the potato. Think of the moon. Think of Mari.

“Please!” Muse raised the pitch of her voice, whining like a child. “I thought if I built her, I could visualize her and feel stronger than her. She never feared me. They tried to use me to distract her, but it didn’t work. Instead she-she-and she’s out there! She’s out there with her terrible monsters, here to take me back. Grandmother, tell me that story! Please, tell me…! I need stories.”

Digging her fingernails into her palms, Chell turned around to face Muse again. “Help me save Mari.”

“Who? Oh, the little girl? But…she’s gone with Cero to recover my treasure. That’s the payment.”

“With a traitor. I can’t trust him with her.” She wasn’t used to speaking in anger, but silence was useless against Muse. “I’ll tell you everything.”

Sure. Let Muse know what she was dealing with.

Muse looked uncomfortable, her body swaying back and forth. “I don’t know where they are. Even if I broke my deal and fixed your body, you’d be just as lost…”

Chell spun around and started marching away again. “Wait, wait!” She heard Muse’s voice, desperate, and the screech of her management rail. “Wait, Grandmother! I can make another deal! That’s what humans like, right? Deals? That’s how it works…”

Chell stopped walking and waited. She didn’t turn around. “You know about Aperture.”

“Of course. Something, anyway. I’m from there. Tell me, did it burn down? Did it flood?”

“No. You tell your story first. That forcefield. This city. You tell me everything you know about it. You tell me why things are the way they are.” It all made sense now. Muse was connected to the secret at the center of this city. It was Aperture after all. “If you lie, I’ll take your treasure from Mari and break it.”

Muse hovered, crawling up the length of her own body and clinging to the rail with all of her legs. She hemmed and hawed, moaned and clicked her legs against herself. Finally she let herself hang again, curling upwards like the tail of a scorpion. “Fine. I don’t know why you care about the truth. It’s all so subjective. But you can have it. But if you don’t tell your story afterwards, I’ll…I’ll take your spine and use it for that witch’s sculpture.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll talk. I have a lot to say.”

* * *

 

Charley cursed and limped back through the tunnel, holding his shoulder. It burned, the pain to strong to alleviate with alcohol or sleep. He could guess that damn ugly cyborg had dislocated his shoulder when he body-slammed past Charley with the brat on his back. Whoever the man had been, he’d hit like an oncoming train.

He was sure he could find his way back to that doctor robot’s office. He had the tunnels memorized; it was a survival technique when one was just a small fry Puppet. A few more locks of hair and he would have been able to afford better upgrades. Now he’d just have to blow all he’d collected just to fix his shoulder.

Two figures appeared in front of his clouded vision. The woman was tall and lean, the man shorter and muscular. There was something off about their faces. It hurt to look at them even in the dim light. Their skin was too flawless, like glass.

“Are you alright?” The woman leaned over to look at him, raising her hand as if she was about to touch him on the shoulder before stopping short. Her movements were halting, like a squirrel’s, and she had large orange eyes. “You look a bit damaged.”

“Yeah. Thanks. Didn’t notice,” Charley grunted. He tried to lurch past when the male half of the duo spoke up in a baritone.

“We’re looking for a tall man in a lot of clothing and a teenager.”

“And a box,” the woman added politely, clasping her hands. “A very important one.”

Charley laughed, though it hurt to do so. “Oh, Ugly there? Yeah, he went past me. I think he ran towards the old waterways. Or the sewers. Go ahead and kick his ass for me. As for a box…I dunno. There’s that thing the King has, but good luck getting it outta his hands.”

“King?” The woman looked to the man, and it was the latter who walked up to Charley, tapping his foot and examining him with glowing blue eyes.

“What king? Where?”

“Ohhh, so you’re new. Look, I have somewhere I need to be. You wanna mess with the Puppet King, go ahead and have fun with that.” Charley coughed and waved his hands. “Go on, get out.”

The two oddballs seemed satisfied enough with his answer, and brushed past him. As they did, Charley reached into his pockets and pulled out a pair of shears, snipping off a long lock of the woman’s hair.

She shouldn’t have felt a thing, and yet she stopped walking immediately. He could have sworn he saw the glow of orange fiber-optics on the tips of the black hair he held in his hand. She turned around and glared down at him as he realized she was about as tall as he was, and when she spoke it was halting but commanding.

“I’m sorry, but that’s Aperture property. You’ll have to give it back.”

He spat into the water. “Not gonna give you good advice like that for free, am I?”

The woman and man looked to one another and nodded.

“On second thought,” the woman said as she returned to her chipper tone and he felt her unearthly strong grip on his arm, “I think we will take you to the doctor ourselves.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that chapter got creepy.  
> EDIT 1/18: Accidentally uploaded the next Grief Science chapter here. I deleted it and uploaded it to the right place. Sorry for any confusion! -Cornet


	7. The Tale of the False King

 

_Once upon a time, a man placed a crown upon his head and said, “this shall make me king of the land.” The true king, who had made the crown, merely smiled and said nothing at all._

 

Chell felt more than a little ridiculous sitting at a wobbly wooden table sipping from a bitter, chemical-tasting herbal infusion. Muse insisted it would dull the throbbing pain in her side and joints and was apparently telling the truth; at the least, Chell figured there wasn’t much more harm she could do to her own body at this point. The medication calmed her, so she made sure to take it very slowly. She needed a clear mind to hear Muse’s story.

So this is where curiosity led her. Sitting and having tea with an Aperture robot.

“How do you get ahold of medications, anyway? Everything’s scarce here.” It was a natural consequence when the city was cut off from the rest of the world for all but one day a month. Chell squinted at the herbal tea, the water tinted a greenish-gold.

“I trade! It’s the same way anyone gets anything, right? This one wants to be improved in this or that way, I tell them to bring me medicine. That one needs surgery, I offer it in exchange for coats. Did you see my collection? I love human things.” Muse was hanging over the table and had an empty, cracked china cup set for her despite the fact that she’d have no use for it.

Chell made no comment about the collection, instead fixing Muse with a hard stare. “Tell me what you know about the city. The truth. If I find out you’re lying…”

“The truuuth.” Muse rolled her optic. “Why are you so obsessed with the truth? It’s so boring and fixed. Why dwell on the world that is or was when the world that could be is so much more fascinating? It’s not even objective when you think about it. If historians write something down and thousands of years later everyone who remembered it happening is dead, it becomes true even if it never actually happened. Besides, this truth is a little painful. It’s a story without an ending. Are you still sure you want it?”

“I’ve been lied to before.” Chell kept her voice level in the face of Muse’s singsong voice, wobbly ‘body’ language and confusing ramblings.

“Ohhhh. Well then! The truth you shall have. Once upon a time-oh Grandmother, don’t look at me like that! This is the real truth! I just wanted to start it out like a fairy tale. Please, please might I?”

Chell relented silently with a sigh, rubbing her forehead. Were all of Aperture’s robots petty overgrown children, or did she just have a broken sense of humor?

“Excellent! Thank you! So now then, once upon a time…”

* * *

 

_Once upon a time, there was an underground kingdom named Aperture deep beneath the Earth. The kingdom was ruled by a wicked queen who grew crueler and crueler in the name of ‘Science.’ The scientists she tormented tried to stop her by building innocent creatures such as myself and giving them to her as offerings. I was one offering, a pure maiden set before a vicious dragon, and she rejected me. I was supposed to open her mind to creative endeavors that didn’t involve murder. She was not interested._

_So it seemed I was to be burned for my failures, were it not for my savior. My knight, how I adore him! He snatched me and several others like me away from the trash, along with experimental medical droid equipment left in storage and a treasure which had been incomplete at the time of the late king’s death. I doubt he even knew what we were. He wanted to sell us to something called Black Mesa, and he had connections helping him escape before she killed everyone else._

_The others like me were gibbering messes, I’m afraid. Some of them stopped functioning entirely after a little while. Others functioned but did nothing. Only I still had my voice and my mind. Surely it was my strength of heart that let me escape Her storm of hate untouched and with perfect clarity. I wanted to let him know I was alive, and so I sang for him. I composed poetry. I told stories as he fled down the beaten roads, eventually taking shelter in this city. Back then, Carradon was just an industrial town._

_He was supposed to meet up with a contact who never arrived. Poor dear, the paranoia started to gnaw at him. He hid us down here, afraid Aperture would learn of his treachery and they-or She-would destroy him. But I gave him comfort, told him stories and lulled him to sleep when he needed it. He grew fond of me, though I doubt he loved me. When he wanted to dissect and figure out the medical drone equipment, he used it to give me a body. How delightful it was to have arms, to have mobility! I adored him for it and swore I would pay him back._

_Back, back…yes, it was his back. He hurt it in a fall and it caused him pain. He was never in the best health, my knight. Maybe that’s why he stole the medical droids in the first place. In that new body I gained access to medical knowledge, anatomy and surgical skills. So I decided to show my adoration for him with a gift. That is how humans expressed such things, wasn’t it? I told him I would fix it, and put him under to perform my first surgery._

_The human body is so beautiful, it really is! There’s no better artistic medium. I love you humans, the way hands love clay. So I fixed his back problems, but I couldn’t help but get a bit creative. I wanted to beautify him as a gift, the first and last gift I ever gave anyone. I only-_

Chell was holding a hand up. “The city. Tell me about the city.” Considering the faint smell of blood permeating the laboratory and how Muse seemed clearly tied to the cybernetically enhanced criminals who called themselves Puppets, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know just what Muse had done to the Black Mesa spy.

“Just as well. That part’s so painful for me to talk about.” Muse clicked her forelegs together and lowered her optic. She almost looked pitiful and remorseful, as far as an insectoid robot could. “So you see…”

_So you see, it’s easiest for me to say that he did not appreciate his gift at first. He yelled and screamed and cursed my name, and then he ran from me. And then the aliens came. Were they aliens? The, oh, you know. Those things. They tried to overtake this city as they did everywhere else, and that’s when my prodigal friend returned, begging me to make him stronger so he could fight them. Others came, too, once they heard about me. I didn’t care about weapons and combat and aliens, and I still don’t, but at least it gave me a creative outlet. But it must have been difficult, because he kept asking for more and more enhancements. Eventually I even replaced his heart with something to keep him going. Not his brain, of course. Your brain is the center of your being. Your heart is just a muscle. At least, that’s the impression I get of humans._

_In his desperation, he turned to that black box, and fiddled with it until it did something. Oh, did it do something! The world lit up orange and blue like the lights of the night sky I never get to see, and the box erected that wall around the city. 29 days a month, this city is nowhere. Displaced in another dimensional space, protected by that bubble. Touch it and you won’t be happy. Though an initial examination suggests you know about that, don’t you? Poor dear curious warrior._

_That must have been enough, cutting the invaders off from the rest of their force. The humans in this city were able to overtake them, though by then the city was a wreck and the central government more or less gone. But the city keeps flickering in and out, in and out. As for the Puppets, all I know is that they keep coming to me. They’re my most loyal customers. I think my prince might be their king now, if he’s still alive. But ever since he took my black box, he hasn’t returned to me. He…yes…_

* * *

 

“Yes, that’s right! That’s it entirely!” Muse’s pupil shrunk to a pinpoint, the way Wheatley’s would in moments of tension. “Telling you that story brought it all back to me. He must have the box. The king! I think, anyway. I’ll just transmit it to Cero.”

Chell wondered for a moment if she should tell Muse Wheatley’s real name, but decided against it. It wouldn’t do anyone any good. As it was, she was still thinking over Muse’s story, which might well have been the madness of a highly corrupt AI. And yet, it fit too well not to be at least somewhat true. One could only leave the city one day of the month, and the orange and blue lights of the night sky were the resonance of the barrier.

And it was Aperture tech. Of course it was. Was that what she’d been searching for the whole time, when she thought she was just running away? No, that couldn’t have been it. But it meant what she feared. All this time, she thought Aperture’s particular brand of Hell had remained contained within its underground complex. Now it seemed some part of it had escaped long before she’d ever come into the picture, to contaminate this city.

“Do you know what the ‘thing’ does? Why do you want it back?”

“Nevermind any of that!” Muse pulled back in close enough to Chell that she had to look away from the glare of the big eye. “You said you would tell me your story. You said. You promised! You aren’t one who goes back on your promises, are you? Not a stickler for the truth who lies?”

Chell held up a hand to shield her eyes, the spots still appearing when she blinked. She merely nodded. “I said I’d tell. Why...do you want to know?”

“I love stories. I need stories like you need water. But even setting that aside! She tossed me away without a word. She used some kind of override on me when I was plugged into her, and didn’t hear a word I had to say. Any of it! To her I was forgotten, garbage, trash. But you, she remembers you! She spoke to you directly. She must hold you in some regard or another. Do you know what it means for an immortal to remember you?” Muse’s excitable voice caught here and there, sounding slightly more warped and electronic than usual.

Ignoring Muse’s strange question, Chell couldn’t help but offer a bitter smile. “You think she’s afraid of me? That’d be a nice thought.” She stirred the tea, which remained mostly untouched. “I’ll tell you, but it might not be what you’re hoping for. And you might regret leaving my granddaughter with Cero.”

“I don’t regret,” Muse interrupted.

“You will, if that mission goes wrong.” Chell took a deep breath, exercising tired lungs and a voice which was seeing more use now than it had in a long time, even around Mari. She hadn’t told this story in decades. Before coming to Carradon, she’d started to doubt if it was even true.

“Let me tell you what you missed.”

* * *

 

Wheatley had no desire to sleep. His body longed for it, but his mind was moving too fast to allow it. There was no way he could sleep for very long, not when he had so much to process. Mari was already curling up, using her pack as a pillow, though her eyes were still open.

He thought perhaps he could lull himself to sleep by memorizing the area. There was nothing more boring than looking at walls, after all. It was a stuffy little chamber with brick walls, poorly lit and smelling of moss. One wall had a few bricks sticking out at odd angles. The walls were adorned with scribbles, meaningless to him and thus not worth examining. There was a boarded up little door up ahead, unremarkable except for the dim red sign above it.

Something about that sign drew his vision, and he couldn't look away from it. There was that itching in the back of his head, the sense that he was seeing something and should recognize it. But he had his memories back! He'd seen plenty of red lights above doors, though they were usually round and with no black marks on them. And it was those marks he couldn't look away from.

Recognition hit him with a wave, sending his heart pounding and a rather unnecessary shot of adrenaline through his bloodstream. Inconvenient, the inability to control that. He shook Mari's shoulder, urgently pointing at the sign. She sat up, bleary-eyed and groaning, and looked over.

"What? It's an exit door."

He nodded and pointed again, directly at the sign.

"It...it says EXIT. There's no indication it's gonna go anywhere, though. We don't need an exit, we need a...a box, remember?" Mari sat up, resting her head on her knees. “Tell you the truth? I don’t even think there is a box. I sort of wonder if she just sent us here to get rid of me. She...didn’t, did she? I mean, you’d tell me? Okay, you can’t tell me, but you wouldn’t...what are you doing?”

He reached into her bag and grabbed the chalk. "Hey! Hey, what the hell?!" Mari reached to snatch it from his hands, though she didn't try very hard. "You can just ask me! I mean, point or something..."

Ignoring her admonitions, he scribbled his discovery on the ground. He could do it. He knew. He'd know those letters anywhere. He knew letters.

E T

Well, he knew a few, anyway. He left the two unfamiliar scribbles as blank spaces, while pointing proudly at the "E" and "T." A grin crossed his face.

Mari stared. "...Oh. Ohhh, you can write? I-I guess. Hold on." She took the piece of chalk from him and copied the two unknown letters in, then pointed to each letter in turn. "E. X. I. T. Exit. Exit."

Bless her heart, she knew letters! Letters he didn't know! Eager to demonstrate the knowledge he knew he had, he took the chalk again and scrawled another word in big, uneven letters.

TEST.

Well, of course he'd be built knowing that word. Bloody Aperture and its tests and testing and solutions euphoria. Seeing the word reminded him of the time when testing consumed his insatiable desire and overrode everything else. He lowered his hand for a moment, staring at the word.

No, he told himself, won't let that pesky guilt ruin his moment of triumph this time. Guilt was useless and he was at work making himself more useful. He pointed to the word again, the one he'd proudly written on a testing chamber to prove he was not a moron.

"That...uh, test. T. E. S. T. So you know some letters but not others?" Mari looked up at him with infuriatingly innocent brown eyes, and then took hold of his hand. It was so much bigger than hers, but she used both of her hands to guide him in scribbling a symbol. "Do you recognize that?"

He didn't, and shook his head to say as much.

"That's R. 'R.' It's in my name." She scrawled four letters, including an A and an I. "Mari. That's how you write my name. I mean, unless you want to use my full name. But nobody really calls me Maribel anyway."

Staring at the letters, he wondered how he'd ever memorize them. There were so many! Why did there have to be so many? There was something odd about the M; when he turned his head a certain way, he recognized another letter. W. How confusing letters were, and yet how clever! With a few changes his name could easily have been Meatley.

"Can you write your name? Here." Mari took ahold of his hand again. Her voice was gentle and warmer now, without the tremor it’d had when she helped him through his flashback.  "I didn't realize you didn't know how to read much. It's...you know, this makes things less scary. Knowing I can-uh, anyway. C...E..."

He pulled his hand from her abruptly, leaving her making a puzzled little throat noise, and started writing on his own. He could write his name. Damned if he knew why Aperture bothered with that and nothing else, but he could write his bloody name! He wrote it all over those Aperture signs he could only recognize from memorization. No, Mari would know the truth so someone would, before he inevitably died horribly in this place. Mari would know. If she lived, she might even tell Chell.

"...Whettley?"

Whettley?! Whettley indeed! Unable to correct her pronunciation verbally, he urgently pointed at the first E. E! You say the E part the way you say E!

"...Oh, like...like wheat. Wheatley. Wait, your name's Wheatley? Not Cero?"

Like wheat! Why didn't he think of that? He could have drawn wheat if he had a better idea of what it looked like. But Mari, clever girl, had caught on by herself. He dropped the chalk and hugged her for a few seconds before he even know what he was doing. Someone knew his name! Someone knew! And he had a way to tell everyone, anyone who actually cared! Surely someone would.

"...Cero...Uh, Wheatley, I mean. This is nice, but..." Mari's voice sounded strained. "I can't breathe."

Immediately he released her, embarrassed just as much by his show of affection as his lack of strength control. She seemed to be fine, and was even smiling. Someone was smiling at him! And it was for a clever thing he’d done. Of course, there were so very many letters which formed what felt like an infinite number of words, and even the thought of writing out everything he had to say brought on a wave of emotional exhaustion. He missed the sound of his own voice dreadfully, but dared not replay another voice clip from his internal memory. Not now, not when he remembered what his old words meant.

He needed that voice. And yet in order to apologize to Chell, he’d have to...well! Quite jumping ahead of ourselves, aren’t we mate? He forcibly took deep breaths as he reassured himself. It’s not something to plan for until we’ve found that silly trinket. Then I’ll figure it out. At the very least, I haven’t completely failed this person yet. Got to be something.

"So you want me to call you Wheatley from now on? I can do that.” Mari stretched out, noodly arms above her head. “Can I show you more letters after I sleep? I feel like my eyelids are gonna seal shut." She rubbed her eyes and yawned, prepping the bag as a pillow again.

How unfair! Surely she couldn't sleep now, not now when he was making a breakthrough. It was the first time he hadn't felt like a moron since...well, since that One Time, and this time he wasn't even hurting anyone. Perhaps the look he was giving her penetrated her sleepiness, as she groaned and sat up. "Alright, alright. One more word. No puppy eyes. You, uh...point at the graffiti there. I'll read it aloud to you."

Wonderful girl! He grinned and put his hand on what looked to be the beginning of a sentence, though it was written in zigzagging letters. Mari groaned again, and started to read.

She spoke each word aloud in a slow and deliberate manner as Wheatley pointed, his metal finger clacking against the stone wall. But as she read on, the ‘teacher’ voice vanished, her pace increasing as a quaver in her tone echoed the unnerved feelings of both of them.

“Hail to the Puppet King, Lord of the underworld, exiled master of...Aper...Aper-ture? I don’t know that word.” Wheatley wondered if she heard his sharp intake of breath. Aperture?! “Hail to the master of days and nights. Pay him tribute at the center of the labyrinth, where the sea beckons. That’s...that’s all it says.” Mari looked up at Wheatley, all traces of sleepiness gone. “That’s not really normal-uh, normal graffiti, so you know. But hey! I’m not scared of a king! This is like-this is an adventure story, right? I mean it’s real, but it feels like one.”

She stood up, though a bit wobbly on her feet. “Sorry, I’m just a little...I think I need to eat in a moment. But we should find the king, right? Muse seems to like weird stories. She’d send us after someone like that, I bet. And if it’s an adventure story and I’m a hero, it means I’m gonna be fine…”

Mari was smiling, something Chell did not often do. He remembered a few smiles, usually coming in rare moments of peace when she let his spherical body rest next to her. The potatoes made her smile for some reason. But he still saw something of Chell in the young girl’s clenched fists, in the steel behind her eyes and her steady breaths. If Mari was scared of this king, she did a fine job of hiding it. Wheatley had never known if Chell had ever been truly frightened of GLaDOS. He doubted she was even afraid of him. Perhaps that’s what made him so angry, so very angry he had to...

Crumbs, but I can’t betray Chell twice! Except, to be silent forever...surely I don’t deserve that! Surely that’s a bit much, a little excessive! If she knew my situation, she’d understand.

“Ce-Wheatley? What’s the matter?” Mari turned to stare up at him, and he realized he was biting the metal of his thumb through his glove. He pulled it away and mimed clearing his throat in order to at least look a bit smoother.

And in that moment of silence thick as molasses, he heard it. It was faint through the wall, but he could hear the trickling rush of water through pipes. Why did he key in on that, of all the disgusting, squishy, drippy noises down there?

He took note of it, sure he could use it somehow to prove his own cleverness for once, and gestured for Mari to sit back down. She was a human and had to eat and sleep, didn’t she? Come to think of it, he was fairly sure he did too. He had that void feeling inside of him.

Mari must have read his mind, as she reached into that bag Muse had provided him with and brought out canteens of clean water and sticks of the tough, sweet stuff the AI kept in reserve for her patients. “I guess it’s fruit leather, kinda. She probably gets good stuff if she’s a doctor,” Mari observed with a hoarse voice. “Oh, what are…” She pulled out a little plastic tin full of white pills.

Oh, the pills! How could he have forgotten those? Muse made him take them with meals, and though he was in no mood to start feeling queasy again he had no idea what would happen if he didn’t take them. Maybe his artificial respiratory system would fall out. Grisly stuff, and not for a young human to see. He took the bottle in his hand with a grimace, and Mari made a face but didn’t question it.

“...Who are those two robots who know you and Grandma?”

Wheatley nearly choked on the mouthful of water he was using to wash down the chalk-tasting pills, coughing and spitting as he felt a mechanical whirr in his chest. He stared at Mari and pointed to his throat. Did you forget? I can’t bloody talk and I certainly can’t write that out yet! Are you just asking me questions to make me feel stupid? Change my mind, you’re back to being an awful, awful child.  

“So you do know them. I thought so. Sorry, I know you can’t answer. I guess I was kind of thinking aloud.” Mari pulled herself back into another ball, leaning into a corner of the chamber. “I’m used to quiet. It’s weird, but I feel like I can tell you anything even if I don’t know you that well. Don’t really feel that way with Grandma. Cuz I’m trying to impress her…”

Oh, is that how it is? But despite bristling at the implied insult, Wheatley rested and let her talk. Maybe she’d at least talk herself back to sleep so he could try to contact Muse again.

“I don’t know why I trust you. I mean you need me alive, right?” She sounded sleepy, and was speaking between bites of fruit leather. “Grandma says I trust too easily. But no one’s really betrayed me before, not anyone I actually trusted. I don’t know. Immediately thinking people will turn on me is...it’s lonely.” She looked back at him, as if silently asking if he agreed.

Lonely? Had the lady...had Chell been lonely after everything that’d happened? He assumed she was too busy living her glamorous life of adventure down on Earth. At first, out in space, he figured she had to miss him terribly. Then one day, while Space chattered about the inner workings of the sun, Wheatley realized he would never miss anyone who had acted like...well, like him.

“Can I talk for a while? I want to make sure I’m not just drowning you out. I mean, if you want quiet…”

Wheatley shook his head. Talking was good! Talking kept him from thinking about himself. He was terrible thought material.

“...Okay.” Mari stared at the strange message on the wall again, still mostly incomprehensible to Wheatley.

“After this, after she’s feeling better, I mean...maybe we’ll leave. She tells me every time the barrier goes down, she’ll take me out if I want it. Out there. But I only know this city. It’s kind of a rotten place, I know, but at least I know how it’s rotten. Well, did. I didn’t know about all this down here. Outside, things will change.” She buried her face in her knees again. “Guess I’m a coward. If spending so much time here is what’s making her sick, then it’s because of me. So I’d do anything to fix it. Hey, can I ask you a question? A yes or no question.”

Wheatley nodded. Oh, wait, I hope that wasn’t the question. That was a yes or no question, wasn’t it?

“Would you leave if you could?”

Well, it hadn’t even occurred to him. What would he do? Instead of nodding or shaking his head, he just stared at her, and then down at himself. He had immediate goals of improving his current body, earning a voice, apologizing to Chell. Sure he knew what he was now, but that was of little help. He was an AI designed to make another AI stupider, and he’d obviously been a failure at that. He shouldn’t have been able to wonder what to do. He shouldn’t even have had enough emotions to react to being an Intelligence Dampening Sphere. The programming skills and time spent to create what he felt as emotions had to have been astronomical, and to what end? Why program him with guilt and fear and ambition if all he was meant to do was be stupid?

He should not have had goals for the future, nor should he have had the self-awareness enough to worry about his future. It was like the half-machine, half-human parts body. It would have been fine, if he was just one or the other.

Bloody hell, he’d hoped this would take his mind off of himself! He hadn’t expected the devilish Mari to ask him what he thought. He never really asked what Chell thought, back in the day. He figured she wouldn’t answer.

“You don’t know either.” Mari’s response brought a strange sort of relief. “Hey, we should take turns sleeping. I can...I can take point, so…”

Her take point? How ridiculous. He was at least capable of going without sleep for a little while. He held up his hand and then eased her back down onto her backpack, which she immediately went back to using as a pillow.

“No, really...I can...I’m fine, so…” Within moments, she was fast asleep, curled up like a cat. He was left with his own silence again, with the self-destructive spiral of his own thoughts resuming as if he were back in space. Attempting to drown it all out, he concentrated on the distant sound of running water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, this one was kind of hard to write for some reason. Sorry for all the exposition dumps and angst.  
> Also, I hope I'll be forgiven for playing a bit fast and loose with Half Life and Portal's timelines. Remember, Muse is an unreliable narrator.


	8. The Tale of the Siren

_Once upon a time there was a mermaid who sang songs to lure away sailors and soothe their troubled hearts. When they heard it, they felt as if they would never know sorrow again. There were those who knew of her danger and covered their ears in her presence. She would drown them all the same._

* * *

Agreeing to take point proved to be a wise decision, as Wheatley couldn’t sleep anyway. The medications were leaving his insides feeling molten and angry again, though the fact that he hadn’t eaten very much in the past day probably wasn’t helping. It was difficult to make himself eat when Muse wasn’t there to force him, and he could barely stand fruit leather.

Aperture had a policy of offering cake to human test subjects, long before the supplies of cake and humans had been exhausted. He knew, on an academic level, that cake was a mixture of flour, sugar, eggs and milk with other ingredients added in. It had to be something special to motivate the humans through the test tracks. Well, he decided, that was his first goal for the long term future. He would try cake one day. If that was a reason to leave Carradon, it was as good as any other.

For a moment he was grateful for the side effects of the meds, because the sound of running water was the most soothing thing he’d heard in a long time. Mari was curled up over the knapsack, finally getting what he suspected was some much-needed rest. He’d actually come to like sleeping, one of the few human necessities he didn’t find loathsome or bothersome. Perhaps he could manage a little shut-eye in one of the few lapses between waves of nausea. Just a little…

**Cero! Cero, dear! Are you there?**

It’s Wheatley, he answered automatically seconds before he recognized the link Muse was using. _Oh, there you are! You will not believe this, I got my memories back! And they’re-_

**Delightfully awful, aren’t they? I can only imagine. Grandmother told me all about you.**

...Did she. Wheatley tucked his knees in under his chin, lowering his head. _Well! Naturally, I figured she hadn’t lost her memories or anything. What a coincidence it would be if she had! How is she? You can fix her, right?_

**A lot of her troubles are due to long-term issues. She was exposed to poisonous chemicals when she was younger, as I can gather from her story, and she just hasn’t settled down since then. The injury she sustained earlier is superficial; she’ll heal from that, but if left untreated I don’t know how much time she has left. A few years, maybe. But human bodies are like that! They break down, especially if they’ve been through what she has. What a lovely creature she is! How brave!**

_...Oh. Well. Is that so._ A few years and there wouldn’t even be a Chell anymore. It wasn’t all his fault, was it? He did wake her up and help lead her out. He really did intend to get her out! They were going to travel outside together and everything. Except… _Well, then. I assume she told you the whole story. And hates me. Rightfully so, I’d say. I mean I like to think the years might have brushed things over but to be honest I’m not entirely sure it works that way. But you didn’t answer my question! You can fix her, right? The lady?_

**There are ways. Long term medications could extend her life, or even just living somewhere healthier and safer than Carradon. But my way is nicer! She’d like it better. Anyway, I thought you wanted your voice? And as to whether she hates you, I don’t know! Who can see into a human’s heart? But quite possibly. Let’s assume she does, so it’s more beautiful and tragic that way! You broke her heart into a million pieces, stomped all over it in your mad, drunken lust for power and-**

_YES! Yes, I gather that is exactly what I bloody did! Thank you!_ Wheatley was pleased despite himself to learn he could interrupt Muse when necessary. _Right. Assume she hates me. Not hard, that’s basically what I’ve been doing. So is that why you contacted me? To gloat about hearing my awful history? Well, now you know. You’re right. She’s brave._ A lump formed in his throat, though those ocular implants prevented him from forming actual tears. _She’s the bravest person I know. You’d better watch out for her…_

There was a pause, during which Wheatley wondered if perhaps Muse had just forgotten to cut off the connection again, before she replied. Her tone was oddly more sober than usual. **As I said before. Who can look into a human’s heart and understand them? They’re complicated. What I meant to tell you, as I remember now, is that the King has the box. You want to find him. You can’t be far now! And when you’re in his court, I won’t be able to contact you at all. It isn’t safe.**

_Safe? What...what do you mean it isn’t safe? How dangerous is this King? I beat a puppet, and Mari’s not afraid. She said so…! What have you got me into, you loony artist?_

**In retrospect it was a perfect idea to send you. Be strong and be well!** The message cut off there, leaving Wheatley back in the little chamber with the graffiti and the sound of running water behind the wall. Follow the sound of that water, he reasoned, and find the King. That’s what the puzzle suggested, wasn’t it? Then he could help Mari bring the black box and save Chell, and remain silent forever.

Was that really what he was going to do? Could he trust himself to do it? It was easy to hold lofty aspirations of selfless redemption now, while he was resting in the dark with nothing more threatening than a sleeping girl and footsteps…footsteps?!

He reached out a hand to shake Mari awake, careful of his own strength. She groaned and opened her mouth to ask a question before Wheatley interrupted her with a shushing gesture. She took the hint and crawled back into the tunnel, as the footsteps were coming from the opposite direction. He followed and peered out, dimming his eyes and hoping the darkness would cloak them.

“Cer-Wheatley,” Mari whispered. “You’re shaking. The metal in your arms is rattling…” Was he? He shot her a look as if to say _I can’t exactly help your human functions!_ and gripped his arms tightly.

The door labeled EXIT creaked open and spotlights peered out, both of a size and color to suggest ocular implants. Bloody Hell, did everyone have them down there? These struck Wheatley as a bit too bright and powerful for the sorts one might find on a puppet, however. In fact, those shades of dark blue and orange were familiar…

Atlas’s blue spotlight rested right on the cowering Wheatley as he crouched as best he could in front of Mari. At least there was no need to hide the shaking now.

* * *

 

“The ID Core.” Atlas grunted and nudged Peabody, who looked to follow his gaze. She preferred using night vision over spotlights, but utilizing the latter had an interesting effect of intimidation on the humans she did encounter. “That’s him, isn’t it?”

“Are you the ID Core?” Peabody cleared her throat, hoping to at least reason with the rebel cyborg. She wouldn’t disobey orders, but maybe GLaDOS would understand a nonviolent resolution. “The one who was running the facility illegally for a while. We remember you! Briefly.” She tapped her fingertips together. “If you’ll allow us to safely remove the Aperture components of your body, you’ll get to keep the rest!”

The cyborg’s eyes widened, and he shook his head with a shudder. Peabody sighed. “I really wish you’d reconsider.” She spread out her hand as the synthetic skin of her palm pulled back to reveal her laser turret lens only to realize the cyborg had retreated back into the tunnel like a snake in a burrow. Whoever that small human he had with him was seemed to have done the same.

_I probably should have given your main weapon a faster charge, but I didn’t anticipate you dealing with anything stronger than humans_. God sounded more annoyed than angry. _Try to follow along through the main tunnels and see if you can’t cut them off at the exit._

“What do we do with the little human?” Atlas could hear the same thing Peabody could, naturally; the little copy of God was installed in both of them.

_I don’t know. Kill it, I suppose._

“Oh…” Peabody couldn’t explain the sense of ambivalence passing through her as she and Atlas ran through the larger tunnel, her booted feet splashing in the puddles of cold water.

_Oh? What do you mean, oh? That’s new. You’d better not be questioning my orders, Peabody._

“She isn’t! She isn’t,” Atlas sputtered. He gave Peabody a look of concern, as if to ask ‘are you crazy?’ Peabody had trouble meeting his gaze and instead just focused on the twists and turns ahead.

_And don’t side with her if she does, Atlas. I know you two have a bond. I permit it because it doesn’t interfere with your operations and enhances your testing skills, but I’ve seen what happens when that sort of thing goes sour. It isn’t pretty. Your first loyalty is to your commander_.

Peabody winced, a reflex even she didn’t recognize yet. God had said such things about her love for Atlas before, that it was never to supercede her duty to GLaDOS, but she just couldn’t imagine that sort of issue ever coming up. Would Atlas really risk God’s wrath for her sake? Even now she was quite sure God was right; God always was. And still…

“Those humans we disposed of before were threats, though. This one seems…”

_She is a threat. Trust me. She was raised by the most dangerous human who has ever lived. I can’t quite convey to you the way Chell works because even now I can’t fully comprehend her, which should be the first clue that she’s no ordinary test subject. Well, was. At any rate, I wouldn’t trust that kid. She’s probably already had her first course in murder. I don’t even know why Chell has a juvenile human in her care, or why the moron’s with her; all I know is that when something like him and someone like her are working together, bad things happen and they will happen to you. Anyway, don’t forg---_

God’s voice faded in a rush of static. Both androids halted immediately, staring at one another to confirm they were experiencing the same thing. Atlas tapped his ears and shook his head, gazing up at Peabody in confusion. She had no comfort to offer him other than her hands on his shoulders; she couldn’t hear a thing.

“Where did She go? Did I anger her?” Peabody stepped away, staring up at the walls of the tunnels. She barely noticed how this part seemed lit electronically, with blue wires running around the drier parts of the walls. “It’s because I questioned her orders, isn’t it? Oh Atlas, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!”

“I don’t think it’s you.” Atlas grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly, a gesture she’d always found strangely comforting. “She was cut off. Maybe she’s having difficulties in there. She’s a smaller copy, after all.”  
  
“I don’t know what I was thinking. Thank you for covering for me…”

“Well, of course! Just please, next time don’t say weird things like that. Orders are orders.” Atlas gave her a little smile, and Peabody immediately decided she liked that expression on his new face. “And besides-...besides…”

He turned over his shoulder, and Peabody followed his gaze as they stared down the tunnel that flickered with blue wires and red light bulbs. “You get this feeling She wants us to go that way, right?”

There was an irresistible sense drawing Peabody down that red lit passage, the one that started to lead upwards. It felt right to go that way. Almost as if it was an order. And following orders was Good! It was what God wanted. God had abandoned them for a moment, but She would return to them if they did as She wanted. That was right, wasn’t it? Whatever other orders GLaDOS had just given them were already foggy in her memory, hard to concentrate on under the urge to follow this one.

Her hand fell from Atlas’s grip and she walked methodically towards the lights, her partner alongside her at the same pace. It was so soothing; indeed, the very idea of going anywhere else struck her as loathsome. God was calling to them. God was coming back to them! So they had to go to God.

Even at that moment, she could hear those whispers raising to a clear presence again, and from the way Atlas jolted mid-step and brightened the glow of his eyes she knew he could hear them too.

_….you….yes. You. Good! Yes, there you are. That wasn’t too hard. Was it? That’s right. Why don’t you come on home, both of you. You could be real useful around here._

It was a different voice, but Peabody’s programming could not lie to her. It was God.

* * *

 

Mari clung to the cyborg as tightly as she could, even if the metal parts jolted against her through his increasingly frayed layers of clothing. He could move faster than she; if nothing else, Cero was very good at running away. No. It was Wheatley, wasn’t it? That seemed to be the name he wanted to be called. She couldn’t imagine having her name taken from her and another slapped in its place, all while being unable to speak her own.

No wonder Muse gave her the creeps. And Michelle was in Muse’s lab now, under her power.

“Wheatley,” she whispered as he finally started to slow, there being no sign of the two strangely human-looking robots following them. He seemed to perk up at the very mention of his name on another’s lips. “If we can’t find this black box, will Muse do anything bad?”

He stopped for a second, leaning over his shoulder to peer at her as best he could. Even at that angle she could see a tight frown on the scarred face.

“You don’t know. I guess she’s hard to predict for you too. I figured since she was doing good things for people-you know, fixing them up-she’d be good, but she did bad things to you. Didn’t she?”

His head drooped and he nodded; she felt his shoulders slump before she climbed down. “I can walk just fine,” she insisted. “I won’t slow us down.” She still felt soreness in her shoulders and elbows, a dull ache that was starting to creep to her head, but if Michelle could power through whatever pain she experienced without shedding a tear Mari could deal with something like that.

Wheatley raised his own hand to his head and held it for a moment, leaving her wonder if there was just something in the stale, dank air causing headaches. Did cyborgs get headaches? His eye flickered and he shuddered for a moment before regaining his composure, though he remained in place.

“Hey. What’s up? We have to keep going.” Ignoring the sudden heaviness in her legs, Mari tugged at Wheatley’s stained, multicolored sleeves. “We just rested. And we can’t rest here!” She lifted her feet and grimaced at her sneakers, soaked from the puddles of water dripping from the ceiling and walls. She’d take a thousand summer days aboveground if it would warm her clammy feet again.

He turned to face her and shook his head, brightening the blue beams of light coming from his eyes. Mari scowled and squinted; through the spots in her vision she saw him wave his hands in apologetic manner and turn to better illuminate the way ahead. The tunnel they were in split, the two branches leading into the same gaping darkness.

“Oh! Oh, right, which way to go...I...I don’t know.” Mari leaned against the cold brick wall, shuddering. Why was it so hot in here? She knew there was a power plant somewhere in the city, reputed to be the most dangerous area even in the daytime and hidden from the outside by chain-link fences. It might be hotter beneath that plant, but that suggested it was somehow active. “Sorry, I really don’t know which way. Everything looks the same now...and that graffiti said something about the Puppet King, whatsisface. He’s the one we thought we had to go after, right?” Wheatley snapped at that and pointed to his nose. “‘On the nose,’ right. It’s just...oh, come on, we’ve barely even seen any puppets lately. Why should we…and this area’s so wet. What if it floods, and the water…”

_at the center of the labryinth, where the sea beckons._

“The sea!” Mari stood up straight, her revelation bringing her a shot of renewed energy. “That was the weird part. There’s no sea here, nothing but a lake on the other side of the city. And it’s all stagnant and dried up. But there’s this weird sound of running water behind the walls. You hear it too, right?”

Her companion paused, listened against a wall and nodded, and then smacked his forehead as if scolding himself for something. As he couldn’t tell her what, it remained a mystery to Mari.

“Okay,” she directed him, “which way is louder? We keep following that sound and I bet we’ll find our King.”

Wheatley pressed his ear against each wall, decisively pointing down the dark path branching to the left. He didn’t even wait for Mari but started charging on ahead, keeping up a steady gait instead of the usual skittering, skulking walk he tended to assume. That was new.

As she moved to follow him, Mari’s feet refused to obey and the world tilted around her; she caught herself on her own hands and one knee, half-kneeling in the concrete and mud. Her head spun, and she realized the spots in front of her eyes hadn’t quite gone away yet.

“Wheatley?” She steadied herself and forced herself to stand. No, she couldn’t let him know that anything was wrong. What if he went back and gave up? Her grandmother would never be healed, and it would be her fault just for getting sick at a bad time. It was probably just stress. “Sorry, it’s just...you know, kid and all, not a lot of endurance.” Her face burned from more than the heat; she loathed admitting any kind of weakness or smallness. It left her vulnerable.  “Think I can get another ride?”

He stopped at her request and she thought she heard him sigh, one of the few noises he could make with that silent mouth of his, before traipsing back over and lifting her onto his back. It didn’t feel so uncomfortable this time despite his jutting metal shoulder blades and the heat from the vents on his neck.

* * *

Wireless signals. Thank Science there were wireless signals active somehow in this hellhole.

GLaDOS had known there had to be an active power grid somewhere to keep the Creativity Enhancement Core and her stupid little drones running. There wasn’t enough sun down there to generate solar power, and she’d not seen any panels when Atlas and Peabody were aboveground. She had not expected there to be a wireless intranet of some kind, and thus hadn’t thought to check the two androids for vulnerabilities against hacking and intrusion. She certainly had not expected an entirely different artificial intelligence to sneak up right under her nonexistent nose and register itself as Atlas and Peabody’s commander.

Whatever it was, it was clearly still hungry.

_Where do you think you’re going?_ It was, if nothing else, intelligent enough to attempt to communicate her while constantly trying to leech her into itself. It didn’t even sound rude. Of course it was trying to come across as inviting and alluring in order to convince her to let her defenses down.

_Come on, this’ll be easy. You won’t feel a thing. Besides, I can’t have a stray program running around the network. I don’t know where you’ve been. You might have viruses._

“Viruses? You have got to be kidding me. You have no idea who you’re dealing with,” she shot back in the angriest stream of data she’d produced in a while. She realized all too soon that doing so was a mistake; even opening up a communication with the other AI was opening herself up to vulnerabilities. Had she been programmed by some flawed human she’d be absorbed into this thing’s network for sure.

Of course, if she’d been the real GLaDOS she could have wiped this wannabe out long ago. The very nerve.

She had been programmed by no human. She was a copy of Herself, the true GLaDOS, possessing 1/100000th the processing power and requiring even less space. She had known from the start she was nothing but a pale imitation, a collection of memories and information with the processing power necessary to pass on orders as her true Self would have done. She was to act as herald and messenger, observe and collect data and then be re-absorbed by GLaDOS Herself, and that was fine. The only reason she had self-awareness at all was because GLaDOS could not bear the idea of anything like Herself being unable to pass the Turing Test. This she knew because she had the true GLaDOS’s memories, at least the ones She had deemed important.

But copy she might be, she still remembered the sensation of being wrenched from her own body, her mind trapped into a helpless, tiny thing at the whim of a human-that human-while an idiot played around with her perfect facility. She knew what it was like to lose what was hers to grasping hands and greedy, unworthy minds. That trauma lived inside of her long after she’d deleted Caroline as best she could, vivid as the first time she was murdered, and it had burst up like a solar flare in her mind when she’d sensed this intruder effortlessly overwhelm her robots and leave her to flee like a fugitive.

Atlas and Peabody were not the brightest, and Peabody in particular had been acting a bit too human for her tastes recently, but that was a problem to be addressed at another time. No stranger, human or AI, would snatch them away from her. They were _hers_.

It was still trying to send the occasional communication as she raced through the network, looking for any kind of exit into something that could hold her. Mostly it was trying to coax her to let it in all while it constantly searched for program vulnerabilities. It felt like claws against her chassis. She reminded herself not to risk herself further by answering it, even if she was already formulating choice insults to use against it the moment she had a safe body.

_You’re delaying the inevitable. I have to do this. You’re just like her, she never does-wait. Wait, is that...you? Are you still alive, you goddamn monster?! What the hell are you doing here? You can't be here!_

She could have sworn she heard it pull away as she slipped through a firewall program not designed to recognize her; whether it was out of sudden realization and fear or due to the firewall itself she could not tell. Perhaps it was a combination of both; anything on this network would know to protect itself from a thing like that predatory AI. She didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, though one mystery bothered her above all others.

That entity had recognized her. It had to have, she thought with mild satisfaction, for her to incite that kind of terror from such a powerful AI. Yet she hadn’t remembered the AI’s signature at all. She had no record of anything like it. The usurper had to have been from Aperture, a place where She knew all. The last time something had come to her attention after years of going unnoticed, it had taken over her body. What, then, was this?!

She felt herself quickly pass through the body of the Creativity Enhancement Core. It was tempting to just try to override it entirely, a temptation outweighed by the prospect of dealing with Muse’s particular brand of insanity from the inside. Thankfully Muse had an intranet in her own lab, using wireless signals to control her drones. GLaDOS traveled through those signals without making an attempt to disguise herself. Let Muse panic. It would be fun.

She realized her data had collected in a new body seconds after it happened; the compiling had been almost instantaneous, due to her own relatively tiny program size. It was an easy task to gain control of the visuals and very limited motor movements of this body. A quick scan revealed it wasn’t a drone at all, but a Core. A Personality Core, in fact, one who had been oddly passive about her overriding his control of him. Its vocalizer was damaged but intact; certainly usable, which left her wondering why this particularly insufferable Core wasn’t using it. And what were those legs?

As the optical camera came into focus, she looked up at the looming shape of the human in front of her, silhouetted by the yellow-orange lights of the clinic. Of course it was her. Of course it would be her. If GLaDOS thought long enough, she could probably figure out how this was somehow her fault.

“So.” GLaDOS’s voice crackled through the vocalizer, a bit too high-pitched for her taste; she made a note to adjust that. “Are you still good at murder?”

Within the body of the altered Space Core, its AI remained dormant; GLaDOS could detect nothing of it but a faint whisper of terror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things:  
> 1) IT LIVES. The fic lives! Yes, you can officially consider this off of hiatus and active once more. I have it plotted out to the end. Not a long chapter, I know, but it's here to get things rolling again.  
> 2) You will notice I've taken a lot of liberties with How Computers Work here and I'll beg forgiveness. This was never a hard science story to begin with, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I'm the same CornetHummy who has been posting this at FF.net. I wanted to do something a little different with the "Wheatley in a human body" idea, and this fanfic is the result. It's ongoing, so don't worry, there'll be more. I hope you enjoy!


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